Riddle and His Lady
by Buckbeak Ate My Wand
Summary: "Hermione soon realised she was no longer in her kitchen, but was stood in a rather quiet room filled with books and herbs. And not only that, but a rather handsome man was sat in the corner, his eyes peaking over the top of a large book, fixed on a woman wearing a "kiss the chef" apron and holding an apple cake in a baking tin." TR Jr/HG. Mild sexual content. Time-travel.
1. Prologue

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Prologue**

If one was to ask the former Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, what his aspirations were for the future, he would most certainly reply, with a most charming smile: "A teaching position at the most prestigious school in the wizarding world, of course." And yes, although this was the case to a certain extent, one would never have believed looking at such a handsome, intelligent young man that he would one day become the most feared wizard in history.

It was clear to one girl, at least, that this façade the charismatic former Head Boy feigned to each person he saw, was just that; a façade. Unlike others, she could see through his wit and charm right to his twisted heart. This, tragically, was too late after she had been introduced to him unfortunately. Too late after she had come to know him, come to share her time with him, share secrets with him that she came to discover would help him immensely Too late after she had come to care for him, and even love him. One cannot blame the, usually rather bright, girl for her slip. She was surely not to know she had made friends with a boy who would come to target her in the future, and murder the people around her. But he adored her utterly. He loved her intelligence, the fire in her belly, the sheer power of her magic. It made his finger tips tingle and his magic crackle with anticipation, the endless possibilities she could offer. Not only did he like her, he needed her. He craved her.

Now, he wasn't everything the rumours suggested. Over time, rumours are manipulated of course but don't let that fool you into thinking he didn't have cruelness running through his veins. Of course he did. He just didn't show it. Especially towards women; he could charm any lady into submission. He could charm any lady into giving him what he wanted and he could frighten any man into staying faithful to him. And to begin with it was the same case with that girl, she couldn't possibly resist his Marlon Brando smile. Utterly irresistible to any woman. Nor could she stop herself from melting at his deep eyes of Lapis Lazuli.

Now, how a girl of such modern thinking and frankly outrageous fashion sense appeared in the chambers of the former Head Boy, wearing slippers and an apron with the words "kiss the chef" printed in large letters, was most certainly a mystery; even to Tom Riddle.

* * *

This is my new story, folks. Yes, I have previously published this prologue but it needed some tweaks so I published it all over again.

Please read and review, thank you :)

-Buckbeak


	2. Apple Cake and Lavendar Tea

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Chapter One: Apple Cake and Lavendar Tea**

Hermione Jean Granger was certainly not your average twenty year old woman; in fact, she was rather considered a heroine to some people. And that was just the case; Hermione was so often called the brightest witch of her age, uncommonly clever compared to her peers even, and the best friend of Harry Potter. But since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, she had been rather overlooked to say the least. Harry was currently engaged to Ginny, soon to be married and living in a rather large house in Diagon Alley. Ronald was still half-living with his parents at The Burrow, but also owned a small house in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, very close to the home of the Weasley's. Hermione however, was currently situated in her own little pocket of the wizarding countryside called Painswick in Gloucestershire. It was a pleasant little historical village with a small, but friendly population. Luckily for the wizarding community, it was hidden from the muggle population and had been hardly affected by the Great War, only four years ago. And this was where Hermione found her perfect home, and found herself there today, ignoring the rest of the busy world by hiding away in her kitchen, baking an apple cake.

One might wonder what exactly a famous and accomplished young witch might wish to ignore from the rest of the world. But the truth was, in fact, the other two components of the 'golden trio' had failed to contact Hermione in the last five months. In fact, ever since the war ended, their friendship had gradually waned thinner and thinner. It was not the matter of working that was the problem either; Harry had made certain only three years ago that Hermione and Ron would never need to work again but since the announcement of his engagement to Ginny, they had very rarely seen much of each other.

Hermione mulled over these turn of events whilst mixing her ingredients and soon enough, popped the cake in the oven and made herself a cup of Lavender tea. She then moved into the living room and waited to hear the _ping_ of the egg timer. It soon struck the young witch as odd that any person would be calling at her home at nearly six at night, especially as they were in the time of year where days were short and afternoons were quickly dark. She pondered this, listening to the persistent knocking of her door, a furry cushion pressed to her front and mug of lavender tea fit snuggly in her hands, and considered that perhaps it was Mrs Crabbly again, alerting Hermione of her notorious pet Nunda having escaped again. Sighing with irritation, Hermione tore herself from the welcomed warmth of the fire and forced herself to the door.

There, she discovered a rather dishevelled looking red haired man stood, or rather sagged, against the door frame.

"Ron? What on earth are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips. She might not have been so annoyed at the prospect of the boy she had grown up with appearing at her door, if it had not taken him five months to talk to her or even nine months to come and see her. With no word from him at all, she neither knew if he were dead or alive. Although, by his sunken eyes and pale complection, Ron seemed to have been drinking himself into the grave.

Ron sighed irritantly and took his hand off the door frame before speaking with a slight slur, "I need to speak with you, 'Mione. Can I please come in?".

She hesitated with an uncertain look in her eyes before nodding and guiding him into the living room. "Would you like some tea?" She asked, more out of courtesy than genuine concern for him. He nodded, throwing himself into her armchair beside the fire and watching her leaving the room and entering the kitchen.

The house was once again filled with silence, only the quiet hissing of the kettle and crackling of the fire could be heard through the awkward stillness. While waiting for the kettle to boil, Hermione quickly checked the cake and then continued back to the living room once the tea was ready. Ron thanked her for the tea before they both sat down, quietly sipping their drinks.

"So, what did you need me for, Ronald?" The young witch questioned, her eyes fixed on him. She observed him inaudibly whilst drinking her tea which had now grown slightly cold. Yet another thing to be annoyed at him for, she thought. She noticed with slight irritation that Ron appeared to be trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with her and snapped an angry, "well?" at him when he did not reply.

"How have you been?" he asked, fiddling with the handle on the mug, eyes trained it.

"I've been fine. What's the problem?" she replied shortly.

Ron sighed angrily and placed his mug down. "I wanted to speak with you about...something a little personal, Hermione." He still refused to meet her eyes.

"Continue," she replied.

"Well," he breathed, "I know I haven't been to see you in a while-"

"That's an understatement," she muttered under her breath.

"-and that's just it. I can't deny I've been...avoiding you and Harry." he continued, ignoring her little comment. Hermione dismissed the small pang of hurt she felt upon hearing that and once again urged him to get to the point.

"Well, when the war finished I found it difficult to accept that this entire thing...Fred's death...and the events with Bill, were not all because of Harry."

Hermione laughed, "You forget we all lost something in the war, Ronalf. And why on earth would it be because of Harry?"

Ron sighed again, standing up suddenly and pacing round the room. "I can't help how I feel, Hermione. I just can't. It has been so difficult not to blame him, just for being _born_! I can't help but feel like if he hadn't been here to cause this trouble with...You-Know-Who then-"

"You can say his name, Ronald. He's gone, you know." Hermione snapped.

"-Yes, I know. Anyway, _then _none of this war would have happened and all those people wouldn't have died."

To say Hermione was shocked to hear these words come from Ron's mouth was an understatement. It was common knowledge that he had always felt threatened by Harry; "the golden boy", but this was taking it one step too far.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing, Ronald. None of this was _his_ fault. He defeated him, for Merlins sake!" Hermione laughed bitterly.

He nodded, "yes, yes, but that wasn't what I came here to say."

Suddenly the ping of the egg timer went off and Hermione used it as a chance to escape the living room to switch the oven off. Ron followed quickly in toe.

She leaned against the work surface with her oven gloves ready and stared at the young man in front of her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hermione," Ron started, taking a step towards her with his hands outstretched, "I want to..give _us _another go."

Hermione, once again, could not believe what she was hearing. Opening her mouth to argue, she found that no sound would come out. In all her experiences, fighting numerous deatheaters, having a crazy woman carving into her arm, helping to defeat the most notorious dark wizard of all time, she had never been in such an impossible and difficult situation. Once she found her voice, she chuckled and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I am _not_ going there again,".

Rons face seemed to sag in responce, but Hermione had no doubt in her mind that starting, yet another, relationship with Ronald Weasley would most certainly not be a great idea. After all, they ended in the first place just months after leaving Hogwarts after finding him in a rather precarious position with one of the Patel twins. Parvati Patel had never struck Hermione as the sort to force herself on any man, although that was what Ron had claimed to be the truth.

"Look, Hermione," he started, disbelief in his blue eyes, "I _know _I hurt you before, but I thought you'd be over it by now, frankly. We were always supposed to be together, 'Mione. We all know that."

"No, Ronald. That is what _your _mother envisaged for us. I refuse to allow you to take control of my life, again!" She said sternly, "honestly, I find it preposterous that you even consider it!"

"I've apologised already! What more do you want from me?"

"My best friend, Ron! Ever since the war finished, you and Harry have abandoned me!" She pointed to the oven angrily and chose then to remove the cake from the oven, "why do you think I'm here baking Apple cake?! Because it's the only thing I have left that I enjoy!"

"And how exactly is that my fault?" Ron laughed, taking another bold step towards her. Now he was close enough for her to smell the fire whiskey on his breath. Hermione recoiled, her nose twitching at the foul smell and was close to reaching for her wand. One more step, she told herself.

"Look," she began, and would have held her hand up as surrender if she hadn't been holding the cake, "I'm sorry, but my feelings for you left me long ago. I think maybe you should go home and sober up." she reasoned gently but firmly.

Ron, however, was far from bending to Hermione's wishes and it soon became clear that he had arrived with the intention of trying to force her hand did she not agree with him. Beads of sweat ran down his face and neck as he went to grab her hand, a look of anguish on his twisted face. Hermione immediately went to grab her wand from her apron pocket, shifting the tin into one hand and stabbed it to Ron's chest sharply with a fiery look in her eyes. Ron immediately recoiled in shock.

"Don't make me use this." she warned, but it appeared he would not be deterred or take the particularly worked-up witch seriously.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, woman," he snapped, brandishing his wand in his hand and attempting to perform _expelliarmus_ on his previous love interest. Hermione had already seemed this coming, however, and without a second thought sent Ron flying to the wall of the kitchen. She immediately gasped at what she had done, and Ron arose, rubbing his back with a look of infuriation slapped across his face. Hermione soon realised that she probably should not have even opened the door for him to come him. It was too late for that though as Ron aimed his wand at her again quickly and shouted, "_praeteritis_", his nostrils flaring and face reddening. As the word tumbled from his lips, a great burst of magic struck the unsuspecting witch as her body absorbed it. A flash of brilliant purple appeared for a moment before disappearing, and taking Hermione with it.

It all happened too fast for Hermione to process what exactly had just occurred as a gust of wind seemed to be blowing and tossing her body about like a doll in the wind.

She soon realised she was no longer in her simple little kitchen, but with a sudden thump was stood in a rather quiet room filled with books and herbs. And not only that, but a rather handsome man was sat in the corner, his eyes peaking over the top of a large book, fixed on the wild-haired woman wearing a "kiss the chef" apron and holding an apple cake in a baking tin.

* * *

So here's the first chapter of **Riddle and His Lady. **Thank you to every one who has taken the time to read this. Some of you might recognise the Prologue as I published this months and months ago and never updated, so I decided to publish it again but tweak it slightly.

I hope you've enjoyed reading this, and please leave me some feedback or ideas? :)

-Buckbeak


	3. Disappearing Act

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Chapter Two: Disappearing Act**

Ronald Weasley was a simple man; he had simple needs and had never asked too much of life. He _thought _that he had not been asking much of Hermione when he turned up at her door, and he was most certainly shocked when he was, rather bluntly, rejected by her. He had always loved her fiery temper, it was one of the things that attracted him, and the way her cheeks heated up when she was angry. He daren't admit it, but sometimes he had to hold himself back from grabbing her shoulders and kissing her when she was having a fit at him, although that had taken the wrong turn once, which taught him never to do that again. Harry's temper, however, made Ronald feel exceptionally ashamed of himself, and in this case he was _already _feeling ashamed.

The young, red-haired man was currently standing in the living room of Harry Potter with a rather angry-looking cat plonked in his arms, receiving quite a stern telling-off.

"What?! What do you mean she _just vanished?_" Harry shouted.

Ron spluttered, opening his mouth like a fish and then closing it. He felt incredibly stupid, standing before his best friend, being forced to explain himself for his actions like a child. Suddenly, Crookshanks struggled in his arms, hissing and clawing. Ron dropped him and he scuttled off towards the kitchen. Typical, Ron thought, even the cat doesn't like me.

"I don't know what happened, Harry! Honestly" Ron insisted, waving his arms around like a mad man before throwing himself on the closest chair and dropping his head in his hands.

Harry looked as if he was about to explode. "Ron, please. A person cannot just vanish without trace. Something must have happened." Harry knew from the guilty expression on his friends face that he was not being completely honest; it was just a matter of time before it all spilled out.

"Okay," Ron sighed, refusing to meet his eyes. "We were arguing and I…_might_ have performed some spell on her, and then she disappeared. I didn't know what the spell was, Harry, I swear..."

Harry sighed, forgetting his anger, deciding it would get them nowhere. "Where did you get this spell from?" Harry inquired, running his hands down his face. He was grateful at that moment that Ginny was tending to an unhappy Crookshanks in the kitchen or he might have started interrogating him out of desperation.

"I just found it, mate. It was written on a scrap of paper in my house. Never seen it before in my life, but I thought it sounded interesting and remembered it." Ron replied, exasperated.

"And what did the paper say, Ron?" Harry pushed, just as Ginny came in handing them both a cup of tea. She offered her fiancé a small smile before leaving the room again.

Ron racked his brain for a moment, sipping his tea and then clicked his fingers in the air, "It said, '_Praeteritis- to resolve feuds'."_

Harry nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. Yes, Harry thought, little did he know that resolving a feud meant making Hermione disappear.

"Right, I'm going to contact Kinglsey and Minerva. I want to find out a little more about this spell before we do anything else."

And with that, they both apparated to the gates of Hogwarts to alert the Headmistress of the sudden turn of events.

* * *

**Wizarding London**

**September, 1947**

It had been a fairly pleasant, quiet day when Tom had chosen to begin reading his newly purchased book on _Moste Hideous Hexes _by _R.E Slinger. _It was a reasonably interesting read, although the hexes, Tom had found, were rather tame for his liking. Having received no visitors that day, Tom had taken the opportunity to relax a little. That is not saying he had no friends...well, "friends" was not the word he would choose. There was Abraxas, of course, whom he had known for nearly nine years now although he had always seem him as the "village idiot", as muggles said. Then there was Dolohov who he would rather call an acquaintance than a friend. Other than those two, Orion and Rosier were the only people he would say he had some sort of "friendly" relationship with. Both of which would call quite often at his home, although Merlin knows why as they both knew Tom was hardly the conversing sort of chap.

The young wizard had been reading intently about the _Exomento _hex, finding the subject rather amusing, when a blinding flash of purple light had appeared in the corner of his room, shaking the bottles of herbs and potions on the walls. If it had not been for his restriction charm he had previously put on the shelves, the jars and bottles would almost certainly have fallen off and smashed, and that would certainly not have been good judging by the effects of some of the potions he had.

Tom, however, chose not to panic about these turn of events as a rather pretty young woman appeared before him. He would have thought she was a muggle, judging by the apron and baking tin, had it not been for the wand she was clutching in her right hand so tightly that her knuckles had gone pale. Still, Tom looked upon the scene quietly and calmly, he never let anyone see the mask slip for more than a second.

The witch appeared quite dazed, staring around the room with her mouth slightly open. He watched her swallow nervously, taking in the room around her before jumping slightly, realising that he was sat in the corner observing her silently. With a raised eyebrow, slightly annoyed that someone would have the audacity to just _appear _in his room, he watched her lick her lips and shuffle her feet.

The woman opened her mouth slowly and cleared her throat before saying, in a rather timid voice, "I do apologise. Might I ask who you are?"

Placing the book down on the mahogany table beside him, Tom proceeded to gracefully flick his hair from his eyes and straighten up in the arm chair. "I think, as you have just..._materialised o_n my property, it would be fitting for me to be asking the questions, miss...?" He trailed off softly.

Tom nearly laughed at the state of the young woman as she nodded her head quickly and said, "Granger, Hermione Granger." He nodded, assuming that she must have been at least a half-blood with a surname like that. He paused, considering what to do next. Afterall, it was certainly not every day a witch just emerges through a purple flash in his room.

"My name is Tom," he suddenly exclaimed, jumping from his seat and walking over to her in three long strides. He painted his best smile on his charming face and offered to take the baking tray from her hands, before offering her a hand shake which she accepted timidly. He noticed that she still kept the grip on her wand after handing over the tin.

"You can put your wand away," he chuckled, sending her another false smile, "I won't attack you, I promise."

Tom knew he was only half-joking, but it would not do to just attack the girl on the spot. He needed to find out a little more about her first, find out if she was a threat to him in any way, or just a simple girl who likes to bake and accidentally put a spell on herself. She didn't look particularly stupid, although looks can be deceiving, which is something he liked to use to his advantage.

Hermione, however, didn't seem to find it very funny as she scrutinized Tom quietly. He then offered to make her a drink to calm her nerves, carrying the cake into the small kitchen and placing it on the work surface. He had to admit, he did not spend an awful lot of time in the kitchen. He would rather go to the Leaky Cauldron to eat as he had never been particularly gifted in the cooking area.

"As I said, I do apologise for this...mishap. This was certainly not deliberate." She insisted, taking a seat at the small dining table and watching him pouring her some tea.

"No need to apologise, Miss Granger." He smiled, handing her drink to her, "How exactly did this mishap occur anyway?" He inquired, taking a seat opposite her.

Hermione found it rather difficult to concentrate on what he was asking her. She had never been the Lavender Brown type of girl, fawning over handsome boys and planning weddings ten years in advance. Hell, she could remember overhearing her planning her and Ron's children in the Gryffindor common room. No, she had never been _that _sort of girl, but now she was under the interrogation of a rather handsome young man and she was beginning to feel her palms sweat.

"Well," she began rather shakily, "this might sound a bit mad."

"I'm sure I can handle it, Miss Granger," Tom smiled.

She nodded and then a thought struck her, "Before I begin, would you like some cake? As a sort of apology for turning up in your home," she smiled, "I'm a fairly good baker, so I won't poison you." she joked.

"If you insist," he replied and went to fetch some plates and forks.

"Ah, apple cake?" he asked and she nodded, slicing them both a sliver, "My favourite," he commented, smiling up at her.

Once they were both sat down and comfortable she finally began explaining how her ex-boyfriend had turned up at her house, expressing his desperation for them to be together again and how this lead to him barking an unknown spell and sending her there. Tom listened to her story quietly, nodding when appropriate but not interrupting.

"And you have no idea what the spell was?" Tom inquired, having finished his cake, commenting that it was delicious and propping his head up on his hands.

"No, I can hardly remember what he even said. All I know is that one minute I was standing in my kitchen, and the next there was a purple light which seemed to absorb me and I was here..." she trailed off, feeling a little bit stupid.

Tom seemed to be in deep thought, rubbing his chin with his thumb and staring off into space. "Honestly, I can't think of any spells off the top of my head. You certainly didn't apparate because you would have recognised that."

They fell into silence once more and Hermione took the opportunity to study his flat. "Are we above the Leaky Cauldron by any chance?" she asked, recognising the street outside the window.

"Yes, we are." Tom replied, smirking. Hermione nodded in reply, continuing to examine the room as Tom sat, deep in thought, presumably trying to come up with some possible spells.

She noticed that the decor seemed quite dated, particularly for the 21st century. And dated by several decades.

Tom noticed, half way through considering the different spells could have sent Hermione there, that she was observing the room with a deep frown on her forehead. He knew that the kitchen was hardly the neatest or cleanest thing he had ever seen, but his pride hardly lay in the kitchen. He decided, after several minutes of watching her confused expression as she scrutinized the room, to ask her what exactly the problem was.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" he asked, innocently.

Her eyes snapped back to him and her face flushed, "Please, call me Hermione. And no..." she trailed off.

It was clear to Tom that there was something wrong, so he pushed her. "Don't hold back, _Hermione_." He quite liked the taste of her name on his tongue, it was one he had never come across before.

"Well, I was just thinking how dated your kitchen is. I mean, I'm not saying it isn't at all nice, but it _is _rather...forties?" she guessed, cocking her head.

Tom couldn't help but laugh then. What a bizarre woman, he thought. "Well," he began, chuckling, "of course it is forties style."

"Why?" she questioned, a crease forming between her eyebrows again.

Tom was now getting a little bit confused, and speaking to her with the utmost bluntness, said, "Because it _is _the forties?"

There was a large, pregnant pause after that, before Tom continued, "Well, late forties, mind you."

With a small shudder, Hermione then squeaked, "Excuse me?"

* * *

Right, there is the third chapter for you! Thank you to **Angel**, **Jessica** and **Strawberryluv** for reviewing :) It means so much to me to have people complimenting me for writing

For those who are wondering, the _Exomento_ hex makes the victim lose control of their bowels. I thought that would be a particularly nasty one, so I mentioned it.

I'll try to update again as soon as I can and please leave me some comments as I love getting them, and without them I probably won't update.

-Buckbeak


	4. Ronald Weasley: The Idiot

**Riddle**** and His Lady**

**Chapter Three: Ronald Weasley, The Idiot**

Hogwarts, Modern Day

"This is not good, Mr Potter, not good at all." Minerva said, shaking her head.

"I know, Headmistress." Harry sighed, "We didn't know what to do, so we came here." he explained.

Minerva nodded and sat down, rather ungracefully. "I do forget my manners. Would either of you like a lemon drop?" she asked, her eyes darting between the two boys. Harry refused, hardly in the mood for an appetite, unlike Ron who lunged for the tray and grabbed a few. Harry shook his head and turned back to the Headmistress.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked.

She paused for a moment, considering the options before bolting out of her chair and turning to stand in front of a blank painting with an intricate black frame. She cleared her throat, as if trying to catch someones attention. Harry frowned, glancing at Ron who shrugged with a mouth full of lemon drops and both their eyes returned to the agitated woman before them.

"I know you're there, Severus, don't ignore me!" Minerva snapped.

"Oh alright," a gruff voice said from the blank painting. A rather grumpy ex-potions professor emerged from the frame, a scowl on his face. "We have a gathering? What ever for?" he inquired, but by the tone of his voice it sounded like he wasn't too interested in the answer.

"Hermione Granger has gone missing, Severus," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "we need you to fetch Albus."

His thick back eyebrows rose in surprise, "Missing, you say? How?"

"Mr Weasley accidentally hit her with a spell we are not familiar with, now can you please fetch Albus?" she replied, beginning to get slightly impatient.

Severus tutted, "No change there then, it seems Mr Weasley. Yes, just give me a moment." He then vanished through another frame and they once again sat down, and waited.

Several minutes later, Severus reappeared as did Dumbledore.

"What seems the be the problem, Minerva?" he inquired, amusement twinkling in his old eyes. Ron suddenly flushed and dipped his head. The presence of the former Headmaster seemed to make him realise what he had exactly done.

The Headmistress explained the situation quickly and told both of the deceased men of the spell used. Albus nodded slowly once she finished.

"Any ideas, Albus?" Minerva asked desperately.

"Yes, one." He began, "It appears that Miss Granger has travelled in time, and I'm sorry to say but there is nothing we can do."

* * *

Wizarding London, 1947

Having never heard any sort of description of Tom Riddle, nor having met him face to face, Hermione Granger was not to know that the man she had invited her into his kitchen and had eaten cake with was, in fact, a notorious dark wizard. Afterall, Ginny had been under the imperius curse when _she _had met him so it wasn't surprising that she struggled to remember his appearance; and Harry, naturally, only had bad things to say about his looks. He never mentioned how handsome he was when speaking about him.

Hermione was also not to know that, during their half an hour spent talking in his kitchen together, that Tom Riddle had developed a fascination with the girl. So much so that he then decided to study her, and figure her out. She seemed rather mysterious to him and that made her as desirable as a light to a moth.

"You are an odd witch, Hermione." Tom chuckled, observing her intensly, "Did you bump your head during your journey here?"

Hermione paused. If indeed she had travelled back by nearly fifty years, it would not do well to go bragging about it, especially to a boy she had only just met. She decided quickly that the best thing to do was leave as quickly as possible and find someone who could answer her questions.

Hermione smiled, "Yes, perhaps I did. I do apologise; my head's feeling a little muddled at the moment."

Tom appeared to buy what she said, and soon she was up on her feet and tidying the plates and saucers away. "No," she protested when he told her there was no need, "it's the least I can do to repay you for not throwing me out of your home."

Whilst she was rinsing the cutlery, she considered her options from a list of people who were still alive in these times whom she would have known at home. Minerva Mcgonagall came to mind, although she dismissed it immediately as she had probably not even left Hogwarts yet. Then there was Slughorn, but it struck her that his knowledge probably lay in potions more than anything else.

After a moment of ticking people off a list in her head, an idea suddenly hit her. Albus Dumbledore was alive during the 40s, and had been recently made Headmaster of Hogwarts! This struck Hermione as the perfect option for her and formed a plan in her head. She could tell Tom that she had some urgent business with a friend in Hogsmeade and apparate there, but then it would be faster for her to apparate straight to the Hogwarts gates. She frowned, struggling to form a believable excuse in her head.

She slowly walked into the room where first appeared, assuming it was a small study of his. Tom was, once again, sat in a rather nice Chesterfield armchair holding an open book in his right hand and twirling his wand in his left hand. Hermione noticed how thin and graceful his fingers were, it would not have surprised her if he was an accomplished wizard and potions maker, judging by the numerous bottles and jars that were neatly organised on shelves around the room.

She stood at the door quietly, not liking to interrupt him whilst he was reading, so she waited for him to notice her. From the corner of his eye, Tom realised that the young witch was standing silently in the door way, shuffling her feet nervously. He nearly laughed; she looked as if she was waiting to be scolded by a teacher.

"I'm afraid I must go," Hermione started, walking a little further towards him and removing her apron. She folded it up neatly and tucked it under her arm.

"Oh, really?" Tom replied, placing the book down to stand up. "May I accompany you?" He asked.

"Yes, of course. I'm visiting Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts. I assume you're familiar with him?"

"Yes, I am. Are you going now?" Tom asked, and she nodded. "Right, shall we apparate to the gates then?"

And with that they both apparated.

* * *

Hogwarts

"This is where we part, I think." Tom said politely, a small smile on his lips.

Hermione nodded, slightly putout. She could not deny that she had quite enjoyed spending a little time with him, even after her rather rude intrusion in his flat. Glancing at the door of Dumbledore's office, she assumed that the griffin staircase had not been added to Hogwarts yet as the office had in her time. Hermione took a deep breath and turned back to Tom with a smile.

"Yes," she said with an intake of breath, "Again, I'm sorry for my intrusion earlier but it was nice talking to you."

Before Tom could reply, the door suddenly opened and revealed a curious looking Headmaster sat at his desk with a long feathered quill in his hand and a silver tray of lemon drops beside him. Dumbledore smiled kindly and welcomed Hermione in.

"Yes, thank you, Headmaster." She replied quickly then said her goodbyes to Tom, whose jaw, she noticed, appeared to be clenching quite strongly. She decided not to inquire.

"Perhaps I'll see you again?" He said softly and reached for her hand which hung by her side, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on her knuckles before turning and walking away.

Hermione felt rather like she was floating after that little incident with Tom but brushed it away quickly and trotted into Dumbledore's office. She sat down opposite him at the desk, slightly overwhelmed at seeing her deceased Headmaster once more, although she reminded herself not to let anything like that slip from her mouth.

"I believe you have something you wish to tell me, miss?" Dumbledore began.

"Hermione Granger, sir. And yes, this may take some time to explain but please bear with me." She said quickly, laying her hands on the table. She did not bother to ask him how she knew, the six years she had known the man she came to understand that there were things he instinctively knew which could not be questioned.

"Please, explain," he smiled and leaned back in his grand chair, placing his quill down in the inkwell.

She first explained the incident with Ron, and appearing in Tom's flat having then discovered that she was suddenly in 1947.

"And it struck me earlier that, not only do I have no idea at all _how _to get home, sir, but I have no money at all, my clothing is hardly going to help me blend in with this decade, and I have nowhere to live. So, I thought I might come to you and explain my situation. I _know _you're a wise man, sir, so it seemed natural to ask for your help."

Dumbledore stayed silent for a little while, seemingly taking in everything he had heard. He was silent for so long that Hermione began to worry she had said something wrong. Perhaps she was being too familiar with him, afterall, he didn't know who she was in this time.

"Miss Granger," he suddenly said, making Hermione jump, "I can certainly inquire about this spell which sent you here, although I cannot guarantee it will be a quick process. I must admit, I have never heard of a spell such as this one but I can consult a few people." He paused again and popped a sweet into his mouth, offering her one which she declined politely. He nodded, amused and said, "I have quite a sweet tooth, I must admit, Miss Granger." he chuckled and Hermione smiled, glad to see that nothing much was different about her former Headmaster.

"Now, onto the matter of your stay here. I can help you financially a little until you are settled. I have a friend in Hogsmeade whom I think will be happy to have a new barmaid and waitress in her public house. She also has vacancies of board there and I think she would be happy to help the both of us. If you are happy, we can apparate there now, unless there is anything else you wish to ask?" Dumbledore explained, finishing by popping yet another sweet in his mouth.

"No, nothing. And thank you, Headmaster, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this." Hermione said sincerely.

"It's no trouble, my dear. Shall we go?" He asked, and Hermione nodded. With that, they apparated to Hogsmeade and appeared outside The Three Broomsticks.

It was gradually getting dark and Hogsmeade appeared to be fairly deserted for once. Even the pub was quite empty. They proceeded through the door, the only sound that could be heard was the crunch of their footsteps against the ground. Hermione was glad to be inside a warm pub after their short time in the bitter cold. The warmth of the fire was certainly welcome to both of them and it made Hermione smile to find that in nearly fifty years, the pub had not changed much at all.

A rather odd looking woman with curly blonde hair and wearing a dark green dress with, what appeared to be, a jacket of wolf fur appeared behind the bar, cleaning the pint glasses. A smile met her face upon finding Dumbledore stood in the doorway, "Albus, my dear friend!" she explaimed, planting the glass down on the bar with some force, "What can I do for you?"

It struck Hermione whilst watching the two converse that this woman, presumably the land lady, looked an awful lot like the Madam Rosmerta from her time. Perhaps they're related, Hermione thought.

"Well then, Miss Granger," Dumbledore began cheerfully after filling the woman in on the situation, "Madam Rosmerta here is happy to let you board here and work here for as long as you need. So, here is where I leave you I think." he smiled.

Hermione nodded, feeling incredibly grateful towards the man who had really only just met her. "Thank you so much Headmaster. Perhaps I will see you again?"

"Yes," he said, "I have no doubt you will."

He turned to leave but stopped and sharply turned, "Oh, that boy you were with earlier," Hermione nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Be careful, Miss Granger. He may appear charming...but there is something not quite right about that boy."

Hermione frowned, not completely certain of what she should think of that. "I assume you know him then, Headmaster?" she inquired.

He chuckled quietly, "Oh yes, I know our young Mr Riddle rather well I should say."

Hermione felt her eyes bulge and a cold breeze swept over her. "R-Riddle, did you say?"

Dumbledore nodded, curiosity twinkling in his eyes. Her reaction was most intriguing to him, although he did not ask questions. "Anyway, farewell Miss Granger." He replied and then vanished.

* * *

Okaly Dokaly, so that was the third chapter. I hope you all like it, I found it a little difficult to write at times althouh it was just a chapter to get all the difficult stuff out of the way really.

Thank you all for reading and a biiig thank you to **Violet-eyed-Tiger4**, **ninjastar175**, **Hylia'grace**, **Jessica**, **Elcarim-Soberian-1222**, **Strawberryluv** (I LOVE your comments haha), Coming **through,** and **amrawo.**

I will try to update again soon, although I expect from now that the updates will be slower as I have an awful lot of work to do haha.

Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment :)

-Buckbeak


	5. Sugared Butterfly Wings

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Chapter Four: Sugared Butterfly Wings**

Hermione was pleased to admit, that she had an incredibly good night's sleep at the Three Broomsticks. Unfortunately, it had not yet hit her that she was stranded in an unfamiliar year, several decades before she was even born. She was most certainly dreading that moment, that inevitable moment, when the reality of the situation would hit her like a wave of misfortune. It was not that she missed anyone in particular, after all, she had no one left at home whom she could really call a friend apart from Crookshanks; and oh, how she adored that cat, but she refused to let herself go out of her mind with worry. No doubt, there were people rushing around trying to find out where she had gone, but that would only be Harry and Ron. Why would they even care? They had been incredibly quick to move on when the war had finished, Ron especially. Hermione willed herself not to think about those two. If she was to return home, it was purely for Crookshanks' benefit. She did not even have her parents to worry for her anymore; they had completely forgotten her, which had been the intention of course. But now they were in Australia, living a peaceful life and expecting a child. Hermione swallowed a thick lump in her throat, feeling her nose sting. Shaking her head, she took a deep, shaky breath and sat up in her bed. It was an incredibly comfortable bed, she though, banishing all thoughts of home, her parents and her "best friends".

Glancing around the room she was currently living in, a small smile met her lips. It was a charming little room and it suited her well, although she couldn't deny that she missed her pleasant little cottage.

A soft rapping on the door tore her from her thoughts and exploration of the room. Tugging a dressing gown over her shoulders, Hermione trotted over to the door and opened it. She was almost certain that her hair was the size of hay bale, but once she spotted a little girl, she guessed around six years old, Hermione doubted that it would matter much. The girl grinned up at her, her long blonde ringlets of hair bouncing as she took a step towards Hermione. She held a rather large cardboard box in her arms which looked quite heavy.

"Mummy told me to bring you this!" she grinned, shoving the box into her arms.

"Thank you very much," Hermione replied, smiling back, "I don't think we've met; what's your name?"

"Rosie," she replied and then ran back along the corridor and down the stairs. Hermione chuckled and returned back into her room when it suddenly occurred to her that the little girl had an uncanny resemblance to the Madam Rosmerta from her time. A smile met her face as she realised that they were one and the same person. At least there is one familiar face, she thought, even if they are only six years old.

Sitting back on her bed, Hermione picked up a small golden tag attached to the box reading: "_A few of your essentials. Enjoy your stay. Yours sincerely, APWB Dumbledore." _She smirked at his impossibly long name and tore the sticky paper from the box to reveal a pile of several 40s style dresses, shoes and a large cream coat. She grinned; she had always been fond of the fashions during these times, so getting the chance to wear it without receiving odd looks from people satisfied her greatly. There was also a small package wrapped inside, concealing a small amount of money, both magical and muggle.

With a grin fixed permanently on her face, Hermione chose which dress she would wear that day and reminded herself to write a letter of thanks to Dumbledore.

After a much appreciated wash, she fixed her hair from its haystack state and changed into one of the dresses and then journeyed downstairs to speak to the Land Lady.

"Hermione," Madam Rosmerta exclaimed, her daughter trailing behind her like an obedient puppy, "We don't open for about two hours yet so I thought I'd ask you for a favour."

"I'd be happy to help," Hermione replied, winking at Rosie who giggled.

"I doubt you'll need much training behind the bar as it's all worked with magic; all you'll need to do is take the orders and hand the drinks out. So, whilst we have a little time on our hands," she guided Rosie towards Hermione, "Rosie here, was wondering if you'd take her to Honeydukes. I promised her a treat," she laughed as Rosie bounded up to me with a grin and took my hand.

"I'd be happy to," she smiled, squeezing her little hand.

Rosmerta beamed, "I'm sure she'd have you there for hours, but try not to be there too long," she laughed, "also, no need to worry about money; I have an…agreement with the owner, let's say."

Hermione chose not to inquire about that, and so they exited the pub and proceeded to Honeydukes.

Walking through Hogsmeade was a pleasant experience for Hermione as she had not visited in nearly a year. With no one to accompany her, it was difficult to find an excuse to go at all and she was rather pleased to have some company there now. Hogsmeade had very little changed in fifty years, it still had the calming, ancient feeling about it which she had always loved since her first visit at the age of thirteen. She would have liked to have visited the Shrieking Shack once more, although she doubted Rosie would have enjoyed that and it struck her that it would not have been given that name until the 70s anyway.

A feeling of warmth enveloped Hermione as they came to the door of Honeydukes. Although most people thought she was only interested in book shops, Honeydukes had secretly been her favourite shop when she was younger. Rosie rushed forwards and barged through the door, her golden ringlets skipping along with her.

Hermione contently followed Rosie around the shop with a paper bag, trying to stop herself from gazing at the shelves and shelves of colourful sweets like a child. At one point, she was so transfixed with the Sugared Butterfly Wings flapping in a large glass tank, which had always been her favourite sweets, that she didn't notice the form of one dark haired young wizard stood by one of the sweet shelves before she slammed into him with some force.

They both leaped back in shock with Hermione almost shrieking an apology at the stranger before her who appeared to find her reaction quite amusing. There was an awkward pause for a moment with Hermione standing before him, not quite sure whether to introduce herself to the handsome stranger or apologise for bumping into him. Luckily, he broke the silence quickly.

The young man grinned after glancing Hermione up and down discretely and stuck his hand out, which she timidly shook.

"Orion Black, and might I know this pretty young lady's name?" he drawled, his grin changing into a pleased smirk.

Hermione smiled coyly back at him. She had never been one to fall at a handsome man's feet, and she certainly wasn't going to start now. Although, he certainly was a looker, she had to admit as she sneakily studied him. It did not surprise her to see he was extremely well dressed, as he was a Black and clearly had a substantial amount of money hidden away. It struck Hermione as remarkable just how similar Orion looked to Sirius; he even had his chin length, wavy black hair and a small amount of stubble round his chin. Although his clothing gave him the appearance of a rich pureblood gent, he had the face of a lovable rogue which made Hermione's heart throb as she thought of Sirius.

She tripped over her words for a moment, trying to introduce herself, before taking a deep breath and internally scolding herself. With a smile she said confidently, "I'm Hermione. Sorry for bumping into you." She muttered the last part, a little ashamed of being so transfixed with the sweets rather than looking where she was going.

"There is absolutely no need to apologise; I can't blame you for being hypnotised by this shop," he chuckled and then squinted his eyes in thought, "Your name...It's not one I have come across before."

"Ah, no. It is certainly not common," she chuckled, when it suddenly occurred to her that Orion must have been Sirius' father.

Orion suddenly clicked his fingers, startling Hermione who had been studying the floor with some keen interest considering what to say next. Her eyes darted up to his just as he exclaimed with a joyful tone, "I don't suppose you're Hermione Granger are you?"

She frowned suspiciously. How on earth would someone from this time be familiar with her name?

"As a matter of fact, yes." She said shortly, suddenly feeling the need to build her defenses up.

"Ah, the famous Hermione Granger," he chuckled, choosing to walk with her as she continued to follow Rosie around the shop. By now, the paper bag was nearly full to the brim with sweets and she was beginning to wonder if she should tell her she'd picked enough or just leave her to her own devices.

"Famous, Mr Black? I'm not so sure about that," she replied, casting her eyes down and only occasionally glancing up to follow Rosie who was currently bouncing around the shop like a spring lamb, grabbing handfuls of sweets of all sorts.

"Well, you've certainly made an impression on _one _person, Hermione. Is it okay that I call you that?"

"Yes, of course. _What_ person?" Hermione felt incredibly intrigued by this piece of information. She hadn't been there for a day, so she couldn't imagine who she might have made an impression on already.

"Tom Riddle, of course," he laughed. His tone of voice suggested it was the most obvious answer in the world, although this was news to Hermione, who promptly stiffened at the mention of his name. Had she known that it was Tom Riddle she had eaten with, she would have darted from that room as fast as she could.

"I shouldn't think why," Hermione snapped, "I certainly gave him no reason in that short encounter with him to form any sort of attachment to me."

Orion raised his eyebrows at the sudden change of attitude in the young witch and decided to change the subject. It became clear to him that the subject of Tom Riddle was a touchy one and should be avoided around this girl, and so he complied and failed to mention him again.

"Anyway," he began slowly, "I haven't seen you here before. Where are you staying?"

Hermione paused before replying, considering whether it was wise to give details such as that out to a stranger but brushed the negative thoughts away. She would not get on well around here if she was accusing them of being murderers like Tom Riddle.

"I have lodgings in the Three Broomsticks. I have also recently got a job there as a barmaid." she explained, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling of the shop which appeared to be an image of a sunny sky with a few pleasant clouds. She smiled at the reminder of her first visit to the Great Hall in Hogwarts.

"I go there quite often. I might see you there," he smiled.

"Yes, perhaps. I only work Fridays and weekends, but don't think I'll be getting you any free drinks," she said, winking. "In fact, I'm here with Madam Rosmerta's daughter, Rosie."

"Ah, yes. My younger brother, Cygnus is around here somewhere. As you can tell, he is quite an adventurer," he chuckled and I called Rosie over to buy the sweets, deciding that she had finally chosen enough.

Rosie smiled at the man behind the counter and, standing on her tiptoes, said, "Mummy says she's just over the road and will pay when you come over. Bye!" and with that, she ran off out the shop, not bothering to wait for an answer.

I chuckled as Orion called for his brother to pay also and we left the shop.

We stood, watching Cygnus and Rosie cram sweets into their mouths for a moment before turning to each other. "I will _definitely_ be seeing you around, Hermione." Orion said with a cheeky smile.

"Perhaps," she replied, deciding she rather like this young man. "Goodbye."

"Yes, goodbye." Orion turned to walk away, as did Hermione and heard him shouting, "Come _on _Cygnus."

With a laugh she called for Rosie who grabbed her hand in a gentle grip and they returned back to the pub in silence.

* * *

I hope this was okay! Two uploads in one day! Wow!

I hope this doesn't seem rushed at all, I was just so excited to introduce Orion into the story as i'm rather intrigued by the Black family and he'll be an important component.

Please read and review :)

-Buckbeak


	6. Butterbeer and A Little Kiss

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Chapter Five: Butterbeer and A Little Kiss**

Having returned from her trip with Rosie, Hermione found herself back in her room with a piece of parchment and a feathered quill. She had to admit, she rather enjoyed her little conversation with Orion. She wasn't expecting to meet someone who was so similar to Sirius, especially as the Black family were notorious for their muggle-hating. They were considered a particularly dark family and probably the closest to Voldemort than any other family, although Hermione knew for definite that at least three members of the Black family had been disowned due to their non-muggle hating.

She couldn't be sure, however, whether Sirius had told them about his father. Hermione gnawed at her lip. Her surname was pretty obviously a muggle one and she wondered whether Orion already knew that.

Hermione decided that now would be a good time to write a letter to Dumbledore. She reached for her quill and thought for a moment; there was so much she wanted to ask him but there were things she couldn't even reveal to him. There was a thin line that Hermione had to tread carefully now she had broken the laws of time. With that in mind, she began writing.

_Dear Headmaster,_

_I must thank you for your generosity towards me in my current state. I cannot thank you enough for helping me when you do not even know me. If there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, I would welcome it._

_Now, when I last saw you, you mentioned a boy called Tom Riddle. I must trust you with some information of dear importance in return for some details regarding this boy. _

_In my time, I am familiar with Tom Riddle. In fact, everyone in the wizarding world is familiar with him although through a different name. There are few that know him for his actual name. Most know him as Lord Voldemort and we are currently involved in a war with him and his followers. I cannot indulge you with any more information as I have probably told you too much already but I thought you had a right to know before I ask you what I will._

_I would like you to tell me all you know of Tom Riddle, including his current murder record. Please do not ask me of my intentions with this information, but it is vital if I am to make my stay here worthwhile._

_Once again, I must thank you for your kindness towards me; it is much appreciated._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Hermione Jean Granger._

Once she had finished writing, she sealed the paper and trotted down to Madam Rosmerta to borrow her owl that quickly flew off with the letter in his mouth.

"Hermione, dear!" Rosmerta cried from the back of the pub. She was currently charming cloths to wipe the tables clean and sponges were washing the pint glasses.

Hermione trotted over to her and accio'd the cloths into her hand once the tables were clean enough. "We are about to open, my dear, so could you unlock the doors and then get three Butterbeers ready. Old Jack Hopparth likes to have a pint ready for him when he gets here every Friday." She shook her head, "he'll drink himself to an early grave yet."

Hermione nodded and did as she was told. Rosie joined her by the bar as she was sorting the pints out and hoisted herself up on the counter as people filtered in, ordering drinks and lunch meals. She was surprised by the business they were getting and it was only lunch time.

"Hermione," Rosie sang, prolonging the vowels in her name. Hermione glanced up with a smile; she was feeling quite under pressure from the incessant wizards piling up to the bar, but she tried not to show it in front of Rosie. "I want to be like you when I'm older," she said, just as Hermione was about to levitate a tray of drinks to one of the tables.

Hermione laughed, her mood suddenly picking up. "Why ever would that be, Rosie?"

"Well," she began, kicking her short legs out in front of her. She seemed adamant to stay perched on the counter as her mother was sending her agitated looks whilst rushing to and from the kitchen with plates of food. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell her to get off, so she ignored it. "I want to be a barmaid like you one day. And you're pretty!" she exclaimed with a jolly smile on her face.

Hermione chuckled, "Thank you, Rosie. But you're _much _prettier than me!" she protested, stretching her arm out to tickle the little blonde girl under the chin. She giggled in response and continued, "But you _are_ pretty, Hermione! I bet you have loads of boyfriends."

Hermione laughed out loud at that, levitating two trays of drinks at once to opposite sides of the room, just as a group of four strapping young men waltzed into the pub.

"Oh, no, darling. Boys rarely look at me; my hair is too big!" she chuckled, and Rosie giggled at that, lifting herself up with her hands and balancing on the counter.

"I happen to think your hair is beautiful, among other things," a deep voice said from beside them. Hermione head snapped round as she heard the voice and her eyes met with those of Orion Black's. Oh my, she thought, he _does _have nice eyes.

Hermione felt her face heat up, and prayed in her mind that her face wasn't as red as it was feeling. "Hello, stranger." she said with a small smile, flicking her wand to produce yet another pint to hand to Old Jack Hopparth.

"This is his fifth one," Hermione sighed, shaking her head, trying to ignore the burning stare she was feeling from her right.

"Is this your boyfriend, Hermione?" Rosie asked, cocking her head to the side with an evil smile on her face. Hermione squinted her eyes with mock anger and opened her mouth to reply before she was, rather rudely, interrupted.

"Oh, she wishes," Orion said dramatically, winking at Rosie who grinned in responce. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that and turn her gaze to him. She was slightly surprised to see a rather heated gaze returned to her and she swallowed awkwardly.

"Are you ordering a drink, Orion?" She inquired, smiling quickly at a rather red-faced Rosmerta who was still rushing back and forth with full and empty plates of food in her arms. Wizards seem to have rather large appetites, Hermione thought with a smile just as Orion replied.

"Yes, actually," he began, leaning on the counter towards the stifled witch with a cheeky smile, "Can I have four Butterbeers please, my pretty?"

"Of course," she replied with a laugh, "I'll send them to your table in a giffy. Anything else?"

"Well, a little kiss wouldn't go amiss," he joked, straightening up and pointing to his table at the back and then walking off with a wink.

Once their drinks were ready, Hermione lifted her wand to levitate the tray over to Orions table but caught his eye before she could. The young wizard shook his head with a twinkle in his dark eyes, and crooked a finger to tell her to come over to the table.

Hermione then turned to Rosie and said, "you can deal with this for a moment, can't you Rosie? I'll just be a second." and trotted over the the table with the tray of drinks in her hands.

"Here you go, boys." she smiled, placing the tray down and handing the pints round. She took little time to observe the four men before her. Sat next to Orion was a tall boy with short blonde hair. Due to his rather smug facial expression as he looked upon Hermione, it didn't take her two guesses to figure out which family _he _came from. "This is Abraxas Malfoy," Orion said, stabbing a thumb in his directed. "This is Evan Rosier," he pointed to a lean boy with windswept hair whom was currently sending Hermione a dashing smile. The name rang a bell in her mind, but she just couldn't reach it. "And this is Lestrange. He doesn't like his first name so we don't go there," Orion chuckled, directing her to a smart boy with light brown hair who gave her a small smile.

"Boys," Orion said proudly, leaning back, "this is my new friend, Hermione Granger."

She smiled timidly at them all and Lestrange quietly said, "Ah, so _this _is the girl that's caught Tom's attention?"

"But she's a mud-" Abraxas began before being elbowed sharply by Orion, and apparently painfully if the gush of air leaving his mouth was anything to go by. She nearly laughed if it were not for the stern look on the young Black's face.

"Yes, she _is _a muggleborn, Brax." Orion said firmly.

"Don't fight, boys," Hermione chuckled, "It doesn't bother me." Hermione wasn't completely lying. Of course, she still felt small pangs of hurt whenever used the term "mudblood", but she had become so used to that word being fired at her during the war that it became just that; a word.

"Anyway, I must get back to work," she chimed and grabbed the tray, walking off only to hear one of the boys say, "Well done, you prat, you've scared her off now."

She chuckled, feeling slightly glad to hear them giving Abraxas a little bit of grief. Well then, she thought, I might have found a friend in Orion.

Having returned to her position behind the bar, business had luckily simmered down to a comfortable flow of customers. Madam Rosmerta soon came over with a appreciative smile on her face, "You were brilliant handling that, Hermione."

"Oh, it wasn't too difficult" Hermione replied, cleaning away numerous empty glasses and charming the cloths and sponges to clean them.

"You just wait til tomorrow night," Rosmerta sighed, wearily, "Saturday nights are monstrous. That's why I have to get my nephew to come in and work those nights; two people can't manage it."

"We'll manage," Hermione smiled.

"You can have your break now, Hermione; you've certainly earned it." And then Rosmerta swapped positions with her.

She was about to go into the kitchen and make herself some food before a strong hand reached out and clutched her arm firmly. Upon seeing her shocked expression, Orion softened his grip and smiled. "I just thought," he began, releasing her, "since you're on your break you could come and sit with us."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, surprised that his friends would like her being there. It was fairly clear they were all aristocratic purebloods. "If your friends are okay with that."

"Of course they are!" He laughed and grabbed her hand to lead her to the table. Hermione slid in next to her new friend with a timid smile on her face, once again greeting the three wizards.

"So, Hermione- you don't mind me calling you that, do you?" Lestrange said quickly. Hermione shook her head, smiling and encouraged him to continue.

"So, how did you and Orion meet?" he inquired, taking a gulp of his Butterbeer.

"In Honeydukes actually," she started, "I was taking Rosie there for a treat and Orion was taking his brother." Lestrange nodded slowly, his eyes darting to Orion with a mischevious smile on his face.

"Speak of the devil," Orion said with a chuckle as Rosie sprinted up to us and lept onto Hermione's knee, beaming at everyone.

"Are these your boyfriends, Hermione?" Rosie said innocently, looking up at the bewildered witch.

Hermione's eyes darted to Orions who was currenlty laughing into his Butterbeer with raised eyebrows. "No," Hermione exclaimed, "No Rosie, they're certainly not."

She glanced around the table shyly, her eyes narrowing at the sight of everyone else finding Rosie's question rather amusing.

Rosie kicked her legs out excitedly again and cried, "Can I have this one then?" Hermione was amused to find her pointing towards Abraxas Malfoy, who had a shocked expression on his face which soon turned to horror as he looked towards Hermione.

"Oh, go on then," she whispered with a smirk on her face and Rosie promptly jumped over Orion to clutch onto Abraxas' arm.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, eh?" Evan said with a wink which Abraxas replied to with a scowl.

The boys continued to discretely tease Abraxas about his "new girlfriend" much to Hermione and Orions amusement.

"What's this then Abraxas? A little young for your taste..." A husky voice said from beside them.

Hermione turned to see where the disembodied voice was coming from just as Orion cried, "Tom! We didn't think you were coming!"

The strikingly sculpted form of Tom Riddle came into Hermione's sight and she suddenly stiffened, a stony expression masking her face. With a small smile, Tom slid in next to Lestrange and unfortunately for Hermione, directly in front of her. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably which did not go unoticed by Orion whose gaze seemed glued to her. He nudged her arm under the table whilst everyone else conversed and she caught his gaze.

"You alright?" he mouthed and she nodded. Hermione was not about to tell him that she was sat with several Death Eaters _and _there evil leader who kills most of her friends in the future. She was not about to tell him how awkward she felt and how guilty she felt that she had eaten cake with this man when he was the one who would ruin peoples lives, the man who killed her best friends parents and godfather. And killed their best friend, and his wife. She found it hard to wrap her head around that concept and that this charming, handsome young man would become such a notorious murderer and even try to kill her. She had to force herself to give him the benefit of the doubt and not kill him right on the spot. He was young; he was not evil _yet. _Hermione had no choice but to endure until she heard from the Headmaster.

Hermione suddenly jumped up from her seat, quite tired of finding it a chore to keep her eyes away from Tom's face whilst he talked to his friends. _His friends._

"I must return to work," she said in a shrill voice before swallowing and forcing a smile on her face as she turned to Tom. "Is there anything you would like? A Butterbeer, perhaps?" _Laced with poison, _she thought.

Toms eyes snapped up to hers and held her gaze for a moment before opening his mouth slowly. "Yes, thank you, Hermione." he drawled with a little flick of his lips. She interpreted that as a smile and trotted off with a nod of the head. "Come on Rosie," she called and heard the little girl sigh and bid the boys farewell.

Hermione returned to her position behind the bar, aware of two heated gazes burning into her face as she tried desperately to ignore them.

* * *

I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter. I quite enjoyed writing it!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed although I'm slightly worried about the number of people reviewing...please do? Otherwise my motivation to update is slightly deflated haha.

So, Tom has come back into the story after a few chapters without him!

Unfortunately, I probably won't update for a week if not more as I'm going away on holiday tomorrow and then when I come back I go back to college. Boo.

But please stick with it and leave me some feedback :D

-Buckbeak


	7. An Unexpected Invitation

**Riddle and His**** Lady**

**Chapter Six: An Unexpected Invitation**

_There was no sunlight in the village of Little Hangleton. Perhaps this was because it was late at night, or perhaps it was due to the constant shadow emanating despair and sheer contempt looming over the, once joyous, village. Only a lonely candle flame could be seen from a skeleton of a house, sat atop a cleanly mown hill. Drawing closer to the house, it becomes clear that this is not just a house, but the mansion of a prestigious Muggle family, and the naked flame, highlighting the withered features of a man with dark hair and bags underneath his eyes. This is the man. A simple 'Alohamora' opens the door easily enough, to reveal a lavish hallway with portraits hung on the walls and dusty gas lamps which have hardly been used. The floorboards are silent and even if they were not, a quick spell would make them so._

_The entire house seems quiet enough; perfectly still as if holding its breath. Except for once room of course, where the sallow-faced man of 38 sat in a creaking wooden chair, writing furiously._

_His parents were upstairs sleeping soundly in their warm, four poster bed with floral pillows, blissfully unaware of the events unfolding on the ground floor of their mansion._

_A whine of the door of the downstairs study alerted the troubled man of an unseen presence in the house._

_He is a stupid man; not clever at all, just rich from his fathers fortune and did not think to grab a candlestick as protection from the possible threat emerging in the darkened doorway. No, instead he stands and with a trembling voice said, "I-is anybody there? Who is it?"_

_His intention was to sound firm and aggressive, but he was far from that. He was a weak man, hardly a role model for a young boy of seventeen._

_"My name is Tom Riddle," the silky voice spoke from behind the shadows, as a young teenage boy with the same eyes, nose and hair colour as the weak man, emerged from the door but still slightly masked from the looming shadow in the room._

_"Excuse me?" the man demanded and squinted his eyes, "show yourself!" and so the teenage boy drew closer, his face was slightly lit by the candle flame._

_"It appears that I am your son." The boy spoke quietly._

_"Son?" the man spat," I have no son! Leave now." He knew full well that was a lie._

_But the young man did not leave; instead he drew closer, demanding answers from the weary man which he refused to give. The young man, eyes blazed with anger, could not stop himself and raised his wand to the man, muttering a mixture of foreign words. Being a mere Muggle, the man jeered at the boy in amusement before crumbling to his knees and tearing at every inch of skin he could reach on his body as if on fire._

_The young man watched, his eyes wide as he observed his father withering…dying on the cold stone floor. His anger had not get dissolved and soon he moved upstairs where he came across a sleeping couple._

_The boy departed from the wretched building, having disposed of all human life within it._

* * *

"No! It wasn't like that!" Tom cried, "It didn't happen like that!"

Sweat drenched his forehead, dripping down his slightly pink cheeks as the young wizard awoke from another nightmare. He pawed desperately at the thin bed sheerts, struggling for a grip from his damp fingers.

Tom gasped for breath, gulping oxygen into his lungs as if his life was depending on it. He patted his forehead, attempting to wipe some of the sweat from his brow. Having batted away all the suffocating bed sheets, he lay back down, an arm covering his face and welcoming the cool air to his bare, glistening torso.

It was uncommonly often that Tom would have these disturbing dreams since leaving Hogwarts. The nightmares lurked in every corner of every room, waiting for him to fall asleep; tormenting him into sheer terror. He had sometimes wishes that he had stayed living at Hogwarts, or even shared a flat with Orion or Lestrange, just as long as the nightmares would stay away.

He knew that it was pure regret that kept his nightmares alive. It was not guilt that bothered him, no; that bastard deserved what he got, but the dreams lied to him every night, convincing him that he was just a cold-blooded murderer. He had told no one the truth of those events, and he intended to keep it that way.

Tom often thought of how his life might have unfolded had his mother still been alive. That, alone, would have improved his life dramatically. He never would have grown up with so many insufferable strangers as his "family". He never would have lived in an orphanage in the centre of a war with Germant, not knowing whether his summer holiday would be his last. Instead, he might have been raised in the wizarding world with a mother who adored him and not being bullied for being different because it was normal elsewhere.

Perhaps if his muggle father had not abandoned his wife he might have had an entire family with grandparents who doted on him and gave him affectionate gifts. Perhaps, if that had been the case, he would not have such a carnal hatred for muggled. Perhaps if all that had happened, he wouldn't be stuck in a small flat above a noisy pub in London, dreaming of the death of his father.

Tom tore himself from his depressing thoughts with a grumble and casted a spell to clean himself up. He reminded himself to brew a dreamless sleep potion at some point. The young wizard sneered, glancing around the room and said to himself, "what kind of existence is this?" just as the gleam of folded white material captured his eye. On closer inspection, it appeared to be an apron placed on the seat of his armchair. He frowned, perplexed as to how such an item would appear in his possession. He gingerly lifted the apron to reveal the words, "kiss the chef" printed on it beside a red lipstick mark. His lips twitched in slight amusement as he remembered a certain young witch appearing before him wearing the same thing. He assumed she must have forgotten it before they had apparated to Hogwarts and so he folded it back neatly and returned it to the chair.

He considered, pulling a white buttoned shirt on that he might just leave it and wait for her to remember, or take it to her as it would be the gentlemanly thing to do. Although, he certainly wasn't a gentleman and neither was he a "good simariton". He sighed, brushing his ebony hair into a neat parting and glances down at the chair once more.

He could not explain why this...Hermione Granger...had had such an impact on him. She hardly struck him as anything special; clever, perhaps, and reasonably attractive, especially in Orion's opinion. The chap seemed positively enamoured by the wilf-haired witch. The matter of her birth could be questioned. As Tom had guessed by her surname, she _was _a muggleborn, as Abraxas had been so keen to inform him.

He was fairly interested in her though. Mostly in how she got in his room though, as well as where she came from. Tom had no memory of ever seeing her in the area and neither had the boys. He had assumed she was from Hogwarts judging by her meeting with Dumbledore but could certainly not remember her face ever appearing in the halls of Hogwarts. And Tom would know, he knew _everyone _in his year.

He was perplexed by her and intended to dig a little deeper, and now he had the perfect excuse he could find to speak with her again. Although, judging by her coldness towards him at the Three Broomsticks, he was not to expect a warm welcome. _Girls, _he thought with a scowl before grabbing the apron and apparating to Hogsmeade.

* * *

Having arrived at the Three Broomsticks, an apron tucked under his arm, Tom bizarrely found himself feeling slightly nervous about seeing Hermione. As he stood outside her door, having been warmly welcomed in by Madam Rosmerta, Tom gnawed softly on his bottom lip. He was not used to feeling nervous. Even when he was waiting to take his Transfiguration NEWTs, he was perfectly calm and collected, but this witch had an excitable air about her that Tom found both irresistible and unnerving. He could not help but feel that she was a little different. It was almost as if she knew something that he did not.

Tom gulped and cleared his throat before lightly knocking on her door.

He smirked when a moan of frustration sounded from her room before the door was wrenched open, revealing a half-asleep witch, stood in the entrace.

"I don't have work this-" Hermione began sleepily before glancing up and halting her speech with wide eyes.

Hermione was not the only one with a shocked face as Tom appraised her state of dress. He felt quite uncomfortable looking the young witch up and down as if she were a slab of meat, although the sheer blue nighty she was wearing, which appeared to be satin, was making it slightly difficult. Tom gave Hermione a tight smile, attempting to ignore her bare thighs and smooth neck which was completely on show to him as she had her hair up in a messy bun. Upon realising her mistake, Hermione rushed back into her room and grabbed a dressing gown, pulling it over her shoulders as quickly as possible.

She reemerged in the doorway, clad in a loose lilac dressing gown and forcing a friendly smile onto her face.

"Tom!" she exclaimed, "I do apologise, I thought you were Rosmerta telling me to get to work," she explained.

Although she had now covered herself substantially, Tom still felt a slight hotness under his collar. It was a rare thing that a young lady revealed that much flesh and naturally, Tom reacted in the way any hot blooded male would react.

He plastered a controlled smile on his face and removed the apron from under his arm, holding it out in front of him.

Hermione's mouth made a small O shape as she realised what it was and Tom's mouth suddenly became very dry.

The young wizard wet his lips slightly before saying huskily, "I found it in my flat so I thought I would return it to you."

A small, seemingly genuine smile met Hermione's lips and she reached out to take it from him. Tom's fingers grazed her own as he handed it to her, sending a shiver through him which made him take a small step back from her.

"Thank you, Tom." Hermione replied, quietly, a small tone of disbelief in her voice as she said it.

Silence met them as Hermione set the apron on her bed until the awkward quiet was broken by the screech of a tawny owl appearing at her bedroom window with a letter in its beak.

She asked Tom to bare with her for a moment whilst she collected the letter and gave the bird a treat, which when flew off again. He watched her pry the letter open with her gentle fingers and skim read the writing, an array of emotions flitting over her face as she read.

Hermione's brow suddenly furrowed and a look of anger and desperation ghosted over her features. She raised her head slowly and dropped the paper beside her bed. A feeling of tension entered the air as she turned back to Tom and he had an odd feeling inside him. A feeling that he had somehow upset the witch. The time it took her to walk over to the door again seemed to stretch out to Tom as he looked upon her with confusion evident on his face.

Her entire attitude had changed the moment she set eyes upon that letter, and Tom was certainly not stupid.

She appraised him with a chilling gaze and a thin smile on her lips. It was as if she was inwardly battling with herself to smile at him. That expression did not suit her pretty face, Tom thought.

"Again," she began, barely attempting to hide the bitterness from her voice, "thank you for returning the apron to me, Mr Riddle. Have a pleasant day." From the stoniness of her face, Tom doubted very much that she genuinely wished him a "pleasant day".

Offering him another thin, empty smile, Hermione them moved to shut the door which struck Tom as an extremely rude thing to do to someone who had just returned a belonging of hers out of the kindness of his own heart.

No, Tom thought, this will not do. And so he suddenly shot his foot out before Hermione could shut the door to prevent her from closing it and placed a firm hand on it for good measure. It was time to have one hand up on this witch.

He could see her eyes widen to begin with and then narrow. He considered carefully what to say next so as to appear genteel rather than an utter brute. "Hermione," he smiled, "it had recently come to my attention that you appear to have some sort of problem with me." He stepped forward and Hermione automatically stepped back, allowing him to open the door and enter the room. "Now," he began with a gentle tone and crossed his arms, "I cannot possibly imagine what I might have done, other than offer you tea, that might have offended you. Please, enlighten me."

Tom was awfully aware that he was beginning to intimidate the young, rather attractive, witch, although he felt her insolence had gone on quite long enough. Well, not long at all in fact but long enough for it to irritate him. He had been nothing but kind to her since she arrived even though she was a muggle born, and she had repaid him by giving him the cold shoulder. _Women, _he thought with a scowl.

"I apologise if I have offended you, Hermione." He said sincerely, reaching out to touch her hand once more. It was a gesture he had learnt over the years that made ladies melt into a puddle at his feet. A rather fitting position, he thought.

Hermione, however, only relaxed slightly but remained ever more stiff. He stroked a thumb over her knuckles which seemed to make her jump into life once more and her eyes softened slightly. Tom observed her swallow nervously before saying, "I won't let you charm me, Mr Ri-"

"-Tom." He interrupted softly.

She sighed and continued, "I won't let you charm me, _Tom_. But please do not apologise; You _have _been nothing but kind to me since I arrived and for that I am sorry."

A smile crept onto Tom;s face, partly for show and only slightly, genuine. Only now did he realise he had backed her up so far that her back was pressed against the bedpost. He took a step back.

"I do hope we can continue as friends, Hermione."

"Yes, yes. So do I." she replied, an almost non existent smile lighting up her features. It crossed Tom's mind that she looked rather pretty when she smiled.

And then an idea occurred to him as he turned to leave. "Orion is having a little gathering of friends at his home during the week," Hermione seemed to hang on his every word, he rather liked that, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you accompanied me there."

"Oh," she said, quite surprised at the offer, "As long as he wouldn't mind..."

No, Tom thought, Orion would be delighted actually.

"Not at all," he replied smoothly, leaning down to grace her hand with a feather light kiss.

Hermione gnawed at her lip, gazing down at the handsome wizard with his lips on her knuckles and with a shy smile said, "Ohh, alright then."

* * *

Here is the sixth chapter! I do apologise for not updating for a week, I have had a very enjoyable holiday in Dorset. Thank you to those of you who wished me a nice holiday :)

So here is the chapter which begins the long road which Tom and Hermione share. I hope you have enjoyed reading this and the next chapter is on its way!

Please review as they are my fuel for writing and updating and thank you so much to those who have. I find your comments very enjoyable.

-Buckbeak


	8. Gorelick's Books and Ancient Artifacts

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Chapter Seven: Gorelick's Books and Ancient Artifacts**

To say that Hermione Granger was shocked to discover Tom Riddle stood at her door, would be a drastic understatement. And even now, as she stared down at the neatly folded apron on her bed, she could not quite believe that she even knew Tom Riddle.

Most certainly, if he had grown up to be a great wizard like Dumbledore, Hermione might have idolised him. But although he was great, he was not _good. _She gnawed on her lip, lifting the apron to her face and sniffed it. She immediately scowled and threw it back onto the bed. She was _not_ the sort of with to go round sniffing boys belongings. She would have liked to have come up with some intelligent and useful reason for sniffing the apron, but the truth was she just liked the smell of Tom Riddle. He smelt sophisticated and intelligent, and Hermione found intelligence incredibly attractive. Perhaps that was why it had not worked out with Ron, she considered. Not that she thought he was s_tupid, _no; he just didn't know how to use that big pink lumpy thing in his head.

She had not expected a confrontation such as that from Tom. He was clearly not one to keep quiet if something irritated him and Hermione could not really blame him on this occasion. She had not even bothered to give the man the benefit of the doubt before learning a little more about him. Although, she wondered if doubting him would turn out to be beneficial for her afterall. And that was why she had written to Dumbledore; to discover those things about him that otherwise she could not possibly know.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the amount of information the Headmaster had collected on Tom Riddle, and through the letter had learnt that after his mother died, Tom had been placed in a muggle orphanage in London. He was born the product of a love potion brewed by his squib mother, Merope Gaunt, and placed on his muggle father, Tom Riddle Sr who then abandoned his wife upon hearing that she was a witch. The heavily pregnant woman was forced onto the streets, resulting in her death shortly after Tom's birth. He stayed at the orphanage until he was eighteen, but mostly lived at Hogwarts.

In his fifth year, he had released a basilisk into the school which killed a young student - Moaning Myrtle. Dumbledore had suspected this for years but with no evidence, he could not accuse. This was how Dumbledore discovered the young Slytherin was a parselmouth, and therefore the heir of Salazar Slytherin. Since then, incidents within Hogwarts seemed to rise dramatically including various cases of students appearing in the hospital wing adorning severe injuries and with no memory of the events.

In Tom's seventh year, he ventured to the Riddle Mansion in Little Hangleton and performed the killing curse on his father and grandparents. He then framed his mothers brother, Morfin Gaunt, who resides in prison for his crimes.

Tom left school in 1945, and not wantin to return to the muggle world in the aftermath of the second world war, applied for a teaching post at Hogwarts which was denied by Dumbledore, as he was aware of gangs he had been organising during his time at Hogwarts. After that, Dumbledore lost all traces of Tom Riddle, although he had tried to keep an eye on him.

Having thoroughly read the letter three times, Hermione sat down at her desk and wrote a short reply.

_Dear Headmaster,_

_Thank you for replying so swiftly to my previous letter, and for collectin so much information. I am certain this information will help me greatly._

_I must inform you of one detail which came to light in the future and caused a devistating problem for myself and others trying to defeat Lord Voldemort. I cannot be certain whether these events have occurred yet, but I can certainly warn you now for the future. Tom Riddle, at some point, discovered Horcruxes and creates his own. In total he creates eight, although one of them is unknown to him and others._

_Furthermore, I had been told of his request for a teaching post. I believe that this resulted in his association with dark artifacts and dark people, and therefore, dark magic. I am, of course, not blamin you, although, I would reccommend that if he applies again, you consider it - greatly._

_Lastly, have you discovered any more on how I have arrived here as of yet? _

_Thank you ever so much for your help, Professor._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger._

The young witch then fetched the owl once more and then burnt Dumbledore's reply to her. Merlin forbid anyone found letters such as the ones she had in her possession.

As Hermione had no shifts at work until the evening, she took the opportunity to visit Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. She had deeply considered which spell Ron might have used to send her back in time. It even occurred to her that the spell might not have been invented yet which meant she could be waiting years for someone to think of it. Her gut instinct told her to do, even just a tiny bit of research on time travel just in case there was something that could help her. She could not soully rely on Dumbledore to figure it out for her. Therefore, she needed a book. Preferably one on the laws of time. She doubted that books like that would have been allowed on shelves in normal shops and was prepared to venture into Knockturn Alley if she had to.

Without the need to inform Rosmerta of her little trip, Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley. With a smile, she grazed the street with her eyes. She was happy to find much of it unchaned; it gave her a small sense of being at home. Gringotts Wizard Bank still stood majestically like the head of a great ship at the end of the street with rows an rows of beautifull painted shops surrounding it, an swarms of chattering witches and wiards crowding. It made her smile to see a familiar flock of children gathering around the broom shop, gazing at the latest broomstick to be released.

It was an odd sight to see a young witch wandering through Diagon Alley alone, and she did indeed get a few odd stares from people, but she was too distracted to notice. Her mind was firmly set on finding her favourite book shop. She could remember it being situated closely to Eeylops Owl Emporium, although she was not even certain it had been opened yet, as there were quite a few shops she did not recognise.

Having searched the streets for nearly an hour, Hermione grew tired with no success of finding a book shop. She found it absolutely astonishing that she had failed to find one. Where on earth did people buy their reading material?

The frustrated witch had grown so tired and fed up with the entire journey that she very nearly returned back to the pub, a comforting image of a pin of Butterbeer set firmly in her mind, until a very small, exhausted looking shop caught her eye, fit snuggly between two colourful shops. She had very nearly overlooked the poor little shop as it did not exactly stand out. It had one small curved display window, which looked particularly ancient. The window had ivy crawling over almost every inch of it and a branch of an overhanging tree bursting through the glass and into the shop. The exterior of the building was fairly dark and sullen, with exposed wooden structues which suggested to Hermione that it was at least three hundred years old.

She knew straight away that it was a book shop. She could see through the dirty glass that piles of books had been stacked up on the window sill and shelves surrounding the main room. An old wooden sign, cracked with wear, hung from the roof an read:

**Gorelick's Books **

**~ And ~**

**Ancient Artifacts**

Hermione immediately liked the look of the shop and simply could not stop herself from charging through the door with excitement.

She found herself entering a very small room, cluttered with dusty books and odd metal instruments which spun wildly with a whirling sound assailing the room. The walls, as she had seen from the outside, were covered with rows of old wooden shelves carrying hundreds of old books. The wall paper reminded her particularly of 12 Grimmauld Place, as much as she could see of it behind the shelves, flaking from the walls but still charmingly grand with ornate golden patterns on a background of deep blue. Gas lamps hung from each wall, although only two were still working and so the room was only half lit.

Upon gazing around the shadowed room, Hermione's eyes suddenly met the form of an elderly lady, sat in a chair behind a small round table covered in a moss green, velvet cloth. The lady had her bony, almost translucent hand out infront of her and rested on the table. She wore a lengthy, red velvet cloak and had long silver hair, pinned with a golden clasp. Without looking up from the table, the old lady spoke with a soft voice, "I was wondering when you'd arrive."

Hermione was not too sure what to say to that, but assumed she meant she had seen her from outside the shop. "Yes," Hermione began, "I was unsure whether to come in or not. For a moment I thought you were closed." her brow pulled together when the woman still persisted not to look up at her. She was beginning to wonder whether she should have come in or not.

"No, my dear," the lady chuckled and finally drew her eyes up to meet Hermione's, who was shocked to find that she was blind. "I _saw_ you. In my third eye, Miss Granger."

Alarmed, Hermione retorted sharply, "How do you know my name?" She saw the old lady smile gently before crooking a finger, encouraging her to come closer.

"I have already told you, dear. I am a seer." she explained, her head positioned as if she was looking straight at the young witch, but eyes focusing elsewhere.

Hermione was silent. She had never had a strong belief in divination and the lark, especially since she had Trelawney teaching her, who was clearly a fraud. Having never experienced anything of that persuasion, Hermione was not wholly convinced with it. She was a woman who lived on solid facts and that suited her well enough, but in Hermione's opinion, there were _no _solid facts to say that people really could see the future.

"Yes, of course." Hermione replied easily, glancing around the room once more and deciding not to pay too much attention to her.

"I know you're a time traveller," the lady sang with a mischeivous sparkle in her eyes. Hermione's mouth popped open in shock at her words and upon hearing her silence, she smiled, "does that prove me right?"

If Hermione had not been so shocked, she would have been grinding her teeth at the smugness radiating off the lady. "I also know that you were sent here by your red-headed friend. Correct me if I am wrong." But of course, she knew she was not wrong.

Against her better judgement, Hermione could not help but be slightly suspicious of the woman. As much as she did not want to accept what the woman said, and believe that she had been told this information, only one other person knew of her dilemma and Dumbledore would certainly not have told anyone. Hermione relaxed slightly, but remained with her hand behand her back, clutching her wand. There was no possible way this woman could know this, unless she was telling the truth.

"If you really are a seer," Hermione said with a low voice, "then why have I come here?" she demanded.

"Destiny, I suppose." she said with a chuckle.

Hermione snorted in a rather unladylike fashion, "I don't believe in destiny."

The woman nodded with a grimace, "You should; it is as real as you and I. Please, sit down, my dear."

Hermione sat. Had she not been incredibly weary from her long journey around Diagon Alley, she would have refused, but her feet cried to her for mercy and so she sat.

"You will not find what you are looking for here." The lady said with a painful cough and removed her hand slowly from the table.

Hermione appraised her with her eyes as she opened her mouth once more and croaked, "But I can give you a book, which I'm sure you're pleased to hear."

The young witch frowned, "why will I not find what I am looking for here?"

"Because the spell that brought you here has not been invented yet," she sighed impatiently. Hermione's nostrils flared. The womans attitude was really beginning to irritate her. How was _she _supposed to know? She was not a seer.

Her mind was whirling with possibilities at that statement. If the spell had not been invented, as she had suspected, then would she have to wait for years for it to be invented? Or would she have to come up with a completely different spell. But inventing one would take her months and months and that's saying that she would even succeed. Hermione rubbed her forehead with her fingers, trying to sooth the persistent pounding in her head.

"What am I going to do?" she said flatly, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt utterly desperate. She had not prepared herself for this sort of news to hit her; she had not expected it to be easy to get home, but this just complicated it even more.

The woman appeared to ignore what the young witch said and instead asked for her hand which Hermione gave reluctantly. She was no longer in a fighting mood and just decided to do what the woman said.

Her brittle fingers danced over Hermione's hand, leaving a cold trail all over her skin. Hermione shivered at the chill of her fingers and stopped herself from pulling her hand back. The lady spoke before Hermione could question what she was doing, "Do not be scared, Hermione. No one will hurt you here."

Hermione highly doubted that somehow. She knew there were dangerous wizards around at this time. Just having Tom Riddle around was reason enough to be scared; he might just be a teenager, but that didn't mean he wasn't just as dangerous as he was in the future. He might not have advanced his skills or have as many followers, but he still had the same twisted thoughts as Voldemort.

After a moment of silence between them, Hermione's temper got the better of her and she suddenly jumped from her seat in irritation, snatching her hand back. "Well?" she demanded, rubbing her hand to bring some circulation back, "are you going to tell me i'm in _grave danger_?"

The woman chuckled quietly and replied, "Oh, no, my dear. Your divination teacher did come out with some tripe though, yes?" she seemed to find her knowledge particularly amusing, as well as the way Hermione was reacting. The young witch did not reply to her and instead focused on levelling her breathing out.

"I have only two things to tell you, Miss Granger." she said before slowly stepping out of her chair, and disappearing into another darkened room at the back of the room.

Hermione waited for her to return for a while until it crossed her mind that she might not be coming back. Hermione walked slowly over to the empty doorway and took a peak in, crying "excuse me?" three times before deciding it was time to go and made her way over to the entrance. Just as she put her hand on the dorknob and slipped her wand back into her back pocket, she heard the click of heels behind her and turned to see the old lady trotting towards her with a gentle smile on her face and a heavy, dusty book held in her hands with a black piece of material underneath it.

The lady plonked the book in Hermione's hands and took a step back, wiping her hands on her red cloak. "Read this. It might help you with what you're searching for." Hermione observed the tattered old book; the title read:

**Pockets of Time and Travel**

**By M.R. Cattermole**

Hermione glanced up at the lady who looked back at her, although her eyes were pointed away from her and thanked her. She nodded in understanding and suddenly grabbed her free hand, holding it tightly. Hermione's eyes darted down at their joined hands, unsure of what to say before the lady spoke in a whisper, "Miss Granger, be aware that you will not be leaving here for a long time, yet so you would be wise to settle in and make friends." She then leaned closer, and almost tenderly said, "and never forget, there _is _kindness in the world and if any is directed at you, always accept it."

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowing. She did not question the lady; she doubted she would get any answers from her anyway and instead questioned her on how much she wanted for the book. The lady then shook her head and explained that it was a gift from a friend, to which Hermione left with the book wrapped in black material and held closely in her arms.

* * *

When Hermione returned to the Three Broomsticks and departed to her room, she found a small light green envelope placed in the centre of her desk. The seal puzzled her; it was of a snake wrapped around a capital T. It was not once she recognised, but of course, she would not.

Frowning, Hermione placed the book beside it and picked the envelope up, flicking the seal open and pulling out a small piece of paper with the words:

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I have given you a pouch of floo powder in this envelope which do not require you to call the name of the place you wish to go to. It will send you directly to my place of living, from where we will proceed to Orion's place of living._

_I feel I must inform you of what we are expected to wear. A simple dress will suffice, luckily for you as I am expected to spend money on a full suit. Orion is rather demanding at times._

_I look forward to seeing you on Monday night._

_With kind regards,_

_Tom Riddle._

Having read the letter, Hermione slipped it back into its envelope neatly and placed it in her bedside draw. She could not help but admit his little comment about buying a new suit had made her smile, and as she glanced down at the small emerald pouch on her desk, she unwilling felt a little nervous about seeing the handsome young wizard again.

* * *

Tom attempted not to be irritated by Lestrange and Abraxas with their booming voices and "whooping" as they sat on his bedroom floor playing a noisy game of wizard chess, but his temper was slowly getting the better of him. It was not just the fact that he was trying to brew a particularly complicated potion on his kitchen table that was irritating, but the fact that the two young men were sat in his living room trying to provoke the chess pieces fight with each other. Tom gritted his teeth in vexation, discarding the Flobberworm Mucus into the bubbling cauldron.

As he prepared to sprinkle the ground lavender in the pot, Lestrange appeared beside him, propping himself up on his elbows on the kitchen table and watching Tom brew the potion.

"What's that you're making?" he inquired, sniffing the cauldron and then spluttering at the smell.

"Never you mind." Tom replies shortly.

Lestrange nodded and continued watching him for a moment before saying, "I saw Hermione earlier."

Tom could not deny that as he said that, his intrest peaked significantly but he showed no signs of interest and instead quirked an eyebrow and said flatly, "Oh, really?"

"Yes, Tom." He replied with a grin, "and guess where she was?"

He shrugged, trying his hardest to concentrate on the potion in front of him. If he added just slightly too much Lavender or too little valerian the potion could explode in their faces, and although he could not deny his interest in what Lestrange was saying, Tom rather liked his eyebrows.

"Knockturn Alley," He replied with a sinister tone. This did, admittedly, shock Tom which of course he masked.

"Right," Tom sniffed, "And why should this interest me?"

"Because," Lestrange drawled, fingering his way through the ingredients for the potion, "She was at Gladys Gorelick's shop!"

Tom slapped his hand away from the ingredients before raising his head. This indeed shocked him. "Why on earth would she go to see a Seer?" He inquired, cocking his head to one side with a calculating look on his face.

Tom pushed the information to the back of his mind after a shrug from Lestrange and continued with his potion making until the other wizard perked up again and cried, "Is it true you've invited her to Orion's gathering?" with disbelief etched on his face.

Tom stiffened but replied quietly, "As a matter of fact, I have."

Lestrange could not stop the bark of laughter leaving his mouth upon hearing that and jumped into a chair at the table, grabbing an apple and crunching into it. "Orion won't like that," he said with a wink.

Tom nearly laughed along with him, but held himself back and instead said, "No, indeed," with a decrete smirk.

* * *

Here is the seventh chapter! I really liked writing this one actually.

There is once small thing I'd like to address; I've had so many people following and favouriting which I really appreciate but hardly anyone is reviewing :/

Thank you to the four people who reviewed chapter six, and the 9 people before that but I really need these comments to give me the confidence and inspiration to post more. I absolutely love writing but if I have no one egging me on to write, then I can't imagine this will go on for long.

Thank you for the people who have reviewed/favourited/followed though.

-Buckbeak


	9. Party At 12 Grimmauld Place

**Authors Note:**

**Just a quick message before I dive into the eighth chapter. Wow. I was so pleased with the feedback on the last chapter; 23 reviews! So I thought I'd give a personal thanks to those who reviewed (If you didn't review, skip to the chapter ;) :**

**Guest: I'm glad you liked it :) I'll keep writing as long as you keep reading haha**

**Radiant Innocence: Thank you :)**

**flyingberry: Okay! I won't abandon it. I love writing it to be honest, and yes, you'll see the party in this very chapter!**

**Zeehana: Why, thank you :)**

**Teliana: I'm so pleased to hear that! And, haha no, Rosie is actually around 6 years old whereas Abraxas is closer to 20**

**MOONpenguin14: I'm glad you like it :) I really enjoy writing it**

**amrawo: It's great that you liked it :) That's a very good idea actually!**

**Violet-eyed-Tiger4: Thank you :)**

**Stardust of Orion: I'm so pleased that you like it so much. Everything will be discovered soon enough. Hermione needs to decide between her head and heart in the future and that information will come in handy for her decisions. Hope you enjoy future chapters!**

**sheddingeverycolor: I love updating! I feel as if i'm reading someone else's story as I write it cause I enjoy it so much haha**

**DaphneWeasley: I certainly will!**

**Tundeboszi: Thank you very much :)**

**Guest: Well, here is the next chapter! Hope you enjoy it **

**BarbarafromGR: Orion is too much of an important character for me to release information like that ;) Walburga will feature eventually though**

**Might Ruler of Gummi Bears: Firstly, what an excellent name! Aw that's a lovely thing to say! thank you haha**

**Guest: Thank you :)**

**Lorraine: Thank you haha**

**ShadowsOfMyHeart: Glad you like it :)**

**SnowStarLuna: Thank you**

**Moonnbeam: Rants aren't a bad thing! Haha, I love to see people writing so much**

**brighteyes2889: Thank you :) I'm so surprised by the amount of reviews for the last chapter!**

**TamariChan: Thank you very much :)**

**mekom: Hermione needs to learn to be more tolerant of people! Haha, and yes, Tom's control is admirable. I hope you enjoy this chapter (:**

* * *

**Riddle And His Lady**

**Chapter Eight: Party At 12 Grimmauld Place**

It was a cool, Monday afternoon when Hermione joined Rosmerta and her charming daughter at the dinner table. All three of them had experienced a stressful Saturday and Sunday night at the pub, resulting in calling Rosmerta's neice to come in and lend a hand, and resulting in carrying an unconscious Rosie up to her bed at nearly eleven at night.

It was nice not to have to work for one day and so they all relaxed. The pub never opened on a Monday so Rosmerta had the chance to go and visit friends whilst Hermione spent a little time with Rosie until her mother returned home. It seemed to Hermione that Rosmerta more than deserved a little break from running the pub. Although Hermione thoroughly enjoyed working there, it was immensly hectic and a small time away was much appreciated.

They were currently sat at an old oak table in the downstairs living area of the pub. It was just the three of them and Hermione had offered to cook dinner for a change so Rosmerta could have a rest for once. The gesture was appreciated greatly and so they sat down to a meal of new potatos (chips for Rosie), steamed carrots, peas, chicken breast and vegetable gravy.

"So," Rosmerta began, taking a sip of her wine, "Are you looking forward to the party tonight, Hermione?"

She didn't reply for a moment, as she had a rather hot new potato in her mouth but spoke when she had swallowed it with a timid smile, "I cannot deny I'm nervous. I can't imagine I will know many people there."

Rosmerta smiled an almost pitiful smile, "Tom and Orion will be there though. They seem like charming young men."

Hermione found that statement rather amusing as Rosmerta appraised her with shifty eyes as if she was trying to push her towards one of them. They did indeed seen charming enough, Orion at least. But Tom's charms just seemed to all be an act to Hermione; he was about as charming as her left buttock. She nodded in agreement and took a bite of her chicken after smearing it in gravy, and in agreement said, "They are indeed."

The older woman nodded her head quickly and quickly swallowed a chunk of carrot, "And both rather handsome, if I may say so. Especially Orion."

Hermione struggled not to choke on her potato as those words slipped from her employers mouth. She would have been lying if she said she thought he _wasn't_ handsome but the times she had seen him, a grand total of twice, Hermione had tried to ignore his rugged good looks, mesmerizing blue eyes and shaggy black hair that looked perfect to run your fingers through. Hermione mentally shook her head, trying to dispel thoughts of how devilishly handsome he was. If she allowed those thoughts to take over, she'd turn into Lavender Brown!

"Yes, I suppose he is." Hermione agreed, casting her eyes back down to her plate. That was one conversation she would be glad to miss. Hermione glanced up through her lashes and saw Rosmerta take a deep breath as she prepared for her lecture on how fitting Orion would be as a love interest. She seemed quite infatuated with the young wizard as a match for Hermione. Luckily, Rosie then perked up with a toothy grin, crying, "I like Abraxas!"

Hermione couldn't stop a burst of giggles escaping her mouth at that remark. Rosmerta too seemed to find it amusing, but plastered a determined look on her face and said, trying to hold back a smile, "Now, I think he might be a little too old for you, Rosie."

The young girl did not appear to like this at all. "But, Hermione's allowed to like Orion!" she protested, her bottom lip jutting out.

"Yes," Rosmerta began, reaching over to squeeze her hand, "But Hermione is much older than you, darling."

Rosie did not seem to be happy with this answer but with a stern look from her mother, the usually cheerful girl, kept quiet and sat pushing the remaining food around her plate with her fork. Unsurprisingly, as Hermione observed, she had eaten every single chip on the plate but left the carrots and peas.

"Anyway," Hermione began again after a heavy intake of breath, "I _am _quite looking forward to seeing Orion again. He seems like a good-natured person."

By now, the three of them had finished eating and Hermione and Rosmerta were finishing off a glass of wine. "Oh, he is. When he was at Hogwarts he used to visit here often with his friends. I never much cared for his friends, but Orion was not like them at all. I knew his mother, you see, before she died ten years ago." Rosmerta paused, casting her eyes down and taking hold of the glass again, "She was a good woman." She then took a sharp gulp of the drink and set the glass back down on the table.

Hermione did not comment and instead nodded in understanding. Hermione knew better than anyone how it was to lose friends and she knew that the best way to console someone was to not say anything at all. No words would bring them back, after all.

Rosie looked particularly bored at the drawn out silence and continued to play with her peas; lining them out perfectly straight on the plate. Hermione observed her quietly until Rosmerta suddenly perked up again.

"Tom is taking you, isn't he?" Rosmerta asked, plastering a smile on her face. Hermione somehow got the impression it was not a real smile.

"Yes, he is."

"Ah, well he _is _a nice boy; and so _clever_. The cleverest boy Hogwarts had ever seen, I heard Horace Slughorn say last year. But then, Horace did always have a soft spot for him."

"He certainly seems intelligent," Hermione replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Although she had agreed to go with him, she could not help but feel a slight twinge of guilt; one, for going with Tom in the first place, and two, for befriending what Ron would call "the enemy".

"And he is _such _a gentleman. You expect a boy of his age to be quite rude and arrogant, as most boys are; but he is a proper gentleman." Rosmerta exclaimed, collecting hers and Hermione's plates together. "And he seems to have taken a shine to you, my dear." she said with a wink and a small smile. Hermione felt her face heat up.

"I hadn't noticed," she commenting quietly. She was about to comment once more on how agreeable Orion was in comparison to Tom; the last thing she needed was Rosmerta forcing them together when she had more things to worry about, like getting home, than boys and relationships. Although it seemed that Rosmerta was already one step ahead of her.

"But Orion does come from a _very _respectable family," she chattered on, "he would make the perfect husband."

Hermione then spluttered on her drink in a rather unladylike fashion at the shock of her words. "H-husband?! But I am only nineteen!" she exclaimed, setting her wine quite heavily down on the table causing Rosie to jump in shock. It was evident that she had not been paying attention to the conversation.

Rosmerta's eyes snapped up to Hermione and she said quietly, "Nineteen is a good age to marry. _I _was only twenty years old when I married, you know."

"There is no question at this moment in time when it comes to marriage. I have absolutely no intention to," Hermione replied firmly. She was not enjoying the sudden feeling in the atmosphere; it was feeling far too tense. Was this how most young women were expected to live? Marry at a young age, pop a few children out and then watch your husband cavort with younger women as you grow old and ugly.

"Marrying into the Black family would be very fortunate though. Plan ahead, I always say." she said with a chuckle.

There was silence for a moment as Hermione watched Rosmerta venture into the kitchen with their plates, cutlery and glasses except for Rosie's who had not yet finished her dinner. The young witch was silently fuming in her chair, having to clutch her wand with a vise-like grip. She had expected these kinds of attitudes in the 19th century, not the 20th century. It was clear to Hermione that even now, women were still seen as baby machines. She forced herself to calm down slightly; not everyone had the opinions Rosmerta did. At least, that's what she told herself in order to have a little faith in humanity still.

The conversation was non-existent when Rosmerta returned and they sat in silence. It occurred to Hermione that the reason they were both still sat there was being Rosie had still not finished her dinner.

"Can I leave the table, mummy?" Rosie asked, pushing her plate away from her with a sinister glance at the peas.

"No, Rosie," her mother replied, "You haven't finished your peas."

"But I don't like peas, mummy!" Rosie argued, disgruntled and crossing her arms.

"Finish your dinner, Rosmerta!" She said firmly, glancing at Rosie.

The young girl looked as if she was going to cry for a moment and Hermione considered reaching her hand out to comfort her, but decided not to get between a mother and her daughter.

Hermione was about to say that she was going to go upstairs to get ready for the party as it was only two hours away but was interrupted by an earsplitting crack sounding from the entrance of the pub. All three of them seemed to jump out of their seats at the shocking noise, but none dared to go and find out what it was. Rosmerta soon darted from her chair to investigate, glad to be away from the dinner table.

The two girls waited for a moment for Rosmerta to return and could just slightly hear voices from where she had disappeared. She soon returned, marching into the room with her brows furrowed. Hermione was about to question what it was when a house elf appeared from behind the landlady with a large brown box wrapped neatly with a purple ribbon around it tied in a bow. The house elf, timidly, trotted over to her and halted beside her chair.

"Miss Hermione Granger?" the elf squeaked. It seemed to Hermione that the poor thing was rather struggling to carry such a large parcel and so she nodded to confirm it was her and carefully took the box from the elf, who looked extremely relieved.

"What is your name?" Hermione asked gently, placing the box on the table and leaning down to the shy elf.

"Mifty, miss." she replied.

Hermione smiled kindly and thanked her for delivering it, before the elf apparated again with another loud crack, and vanished from the room.

"You can open it in private if you would like," Rosmerta said, "We don't mind."

The entire business with Rosie and her dinner seemed to disparate from the room when Hermione shook her head and stayed. Rosie jumped from her seat as Hermione unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box, even more eager to see what it was.

The young witch was pleasantly surprised to find a rather nice velvet dress folded neatly in the box with a coat hanger. From what she could gather by holding it up, it was a knee length party dress of midnight blue. It was really a charming little thing, and modestly covered everything, only revealing her calves and arms. Hermione had failed to notice a small silver note in the bottom of the box as she was too concerned with the dress that had suddenly arrived for her.

"Someone has an admirer," Rosmerta chuckled, reaching into the box to retrieve the note and read it aloud.

_A beautiful gift for a beautiful lady,_

_Your dear friend,_

_Orion Black_

Hermione was speechless to say the least, both at the dress and at the affectionate note left from Orion. Perhaps she _did_ have an admirer after all.

"Is Orion your boyfriend, Hermione?" Rosie asked innocently, gazing up at the dress in awe.

Hermione's trance broke and a laugh rippled from her lips. "No, Rosie," she said through laughter, "He's not my boyfriend."

Hermione could have sworn she heard Rosmerta mutter, "not yet, anyway," under her breath, but decided to ignore the accusation.

Rosmerta then shooed Hermione upstairs with the dress and note in hand to try it on. She could not help but feel a twinge of doubt in her mind that the dress might not actually fit her, after all, how was Orion expected to know her size? She silently prayed that it would fit her; she did not want to have to turn down such a beautiful creation and explain to Orion why she wasn't wearing it.

When Hermione returned from her bedroom and descended down the stairs, Rosie and her mother were at the bottom, eagerly awaiting her. It had taken Hermione a mere hour to shower, dry her hair, apply as little makeup as she possibly could and dress herself. She could honestly say she was quite happy with the results of this. Magic was so brilliant at times; she had no idea how to do her own hair, but a simple charm sorted all of that out for her. Magic really was a gift.

"Oh, Hermione," Rosmerta gasped as she slowly stepped down the stairs with her hands over her mouth, "You look beautiful!"

Hermione smiled softly, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment. "Thank you, Rosmerta." she said, and reached the foot of the stairs. Her eyes moved to Rosie who stood next to her mother, gawping up at Hermione with her mouth open.

"Hermione," she began, "Are you a princess?!" she then asked, eagerly and bounced over to the witch before attaching herself to her hand.

Hermione laughed and smiled down at the girl, "Unfortunately not, Rosie."

"That dress looks very expensive," Rosmerta commented and Hermione agreed, gnawing on her bottom lip. She hoped that Orion had not spent too much money on it; she would feel immensely guilty if he had. She hated it when people spent money on her.

"Do you have the floo powder?" Rosmerta asked and Hermione nodded, a nervous grin on her face. She could feel her stomach flipping so she took a deep breath. She reached inside her enchanted bag which held her essentials; wand, emergency books etcetera and once she found the small pouch Tom had given her, opened the pouch to take a handful of the green, shiny remembered that there was no need to say anything when she threw the powder, so, after saying a small farewell to Rosie and Rosmerta, Hermione disappeared through the old stone fireplace of the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

When Hermione arrived at Tom's flat, she found the young wizard sat in his usual seat in his bedroom, once again, holding a heavy book in one hand and twirling his wand between his fingers in the other hand. Although his fireplace was in his room, the same room he was sat in, he seemed to immersed in the book to notice she had arrived. She stood like a statue for a moment, her fingers nervously fiddling with her beaded bag as she did not like to interrupt him from his reading. It was clearly a gripping book if his attention was so firmly on it; it almost made her jealous of him reading it. She always loved the feeling of holding such a gripping book. She then noticed how when he was reading intently, he slightly chewed on the inside of his cheek and scrunched his eyebrows. It really was the image of pure vulnerability and Hermione felt slightly guilty for catching him in such a moment of exposure.

The young witch decided to use that opportunity to study what the wizard was wearing and she was happily surprised by his attire. It seemed that he had not put an awful lot of effort in his outfit, although neither had she, although he s_till _managed to look absolutely delicious. Hermione's eyes stroked from his black leather brogues, up to his dark trousers which were held by a thin black belt. Above that, he wore a white buttoned shirt tucked into his trousers neatly. Hermione swallowed at the sight of it; it clung to him perfectly, showing his fine figure to her. The shirt was long-sleeved, but he had neatly rolled the sleeved up to his elbows which made her face heat up further at the sight of his muscular arms. From what she could see, he was not dreadfully muscly but neither skinny; he was a perfect in-between. His hair was at it usually was, although slightly wavy this time and at he read, he seemed to have been running his fingers through it because it was just slightly out of place. Not that Hermione was complaining; she thought it suited him a little bit messy. With his messy hair and rolled up sleeves, anyone else would have looked quite scruffy but somehow he managed to stay looking smart and as handsome as ever.

"My my," A husky voice said, "You _do _make a pretty picture, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes snapped to the sound of the voice and met with those of a rather arrogant looking Tom Riddle. She felt all the blood rush into her face upon realising that she had just been caught ogling him from head to toe. She opened her mouth to speak but found that nothing came out but a rush of air, so she promptly closed it and swallowed.

"I- I didn't want to interrupt you reading," she explained timidly, taking a step towards him but keeping her distance.

He sharply jumped from his chair, snapping the book shut and sliding his wand into his right hand. "Yes, I understand," he said with an amused tone and a small smirk gracing his lips. She felt absolutely mortified.

She did not miss the slow movement his dark eyes made as they traced up and down her, a pleasing smile adorned on his handsome face. "Well," he began in a smoldering tone, "I must say you look positively ravishing." The young, handsome, wizard took a step towards her so they were in touching distance.

Hermione internally kicked herself; she could not act as if she were a weak little romantic. She was strong, she was a soldier and she would not allow this man...this, beautiful man...to walk all over her just because he was devilishly handsome. Hermione then shook away all her humiliation and smiled gently at the man before taking another step towards him and reaching her hand out.

For a moment it looked as if Tom was about to smack her hand away, but he didn't and although Hermione hesitated with nerves, she then reached up towards his face and stroked a timid hand through his ebony hair, tidying it back in place. She was struck by how soft it was; she had never expected it to be so pleasant to touch. Not that it did not look pleasant; No, it looked heavenly.

She soon snatched her hand back, aware that Tom's breath had seemed to catch in his throat, as had hers as his scent assailed her nostrils. If his hair looked heavenly, she'd be damned if he didn't s_mell _heavenly too.

Tom seemed to be trying to compose himself; he had never had a woman make such a gentle gesture towards him and was finding it quite difficult not to, either, wrench her hand away from him, or draw her closer. He made a sharp intake of breath before forcing a smile on his face and offering his arm to her.

"Shall we go?" He asked with a steady voice, which was lucky because he certainly was not feeling steady.

"Yes," Hermione replied softly and with a _crack, _they apparated to Orion's party.

* * *

**12 Grimmauld Place, London**

When Hermione and Tom arrived in their destination, a rather grand but pokey hallway, she was overcome with a great sense of deja vú. Her eyes scanned the long corridor with a feeling of dread rising in her stomach.

"Tom," she muttered, unable to stop herself from moving a little closer to his side, "where exactly are we?"

The man next to her straightened up and slipped his wand into his breast pocket and said, "12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione; the home of the Black family." She noticed a slight stiffness in his tone of voice but did not question it and instead just nodded her head.

She swallowed nervously; she never thought she would have been seeing this place again. Tom and Hermione proceeded together in silence through to the reception room where they met with the grinning face of Lestrange and a girl Hermione did not know.

"Well," Lestrange boomed, leaning against the staircase with a smile, "Don't you look dashing, Tom?"

Hermione could not help but laugh when he winked at Tom, earning himself a swift smack around the ear from the girl stood next to him which she found slightly alarming. Lestrange cried out, although they could all tell it was put on, and clutched his head, glaring at the girl who stared back in amusement.

She had long, black hair which hung perfectly straight behind her back. Her pale blue eyes shone with amusement at the young man beside her before she turned to Hermione and Tom.

"I do apologise for his behaviour, Tom," she said sincerely, "his training isn't going too well."

Tom laughed in response and introduced her to Hermione. The girl smiled at her, "Eileen Prince; pleased to meet you, Hermione."

The girls leaned forwards for a greeting kiss on the cheek.

_Prince, _Hermione thought, _she must be Snape's mother_. Now she looked closely at the girl, she could definitely see a few familiar features, namely the nose and pale complexion.

"Everyone else is through here," Lestrange perked up and dashed past the staircase and through another room with Eileen in toe.

Hermione and Tom held back for a moment as he noticed the look of worry on her face. "What's troubling you?" he asked, looking down at her with a look of concern on his face. Although she was not convinced by his "concern", she was grateful that he was asking and that at least someone was noticing her discomfort.

"I won't really know anyone here, Tom," she began quietly, trying to keep her voice down, "I feel dreadfully out of place."

She heard Tom sigh and then tighten his hold on her arm, "You and me both," he said quietly, "shall we proceed?"

The witch nodded, wondering about what he meant by what he had just said but deciding not to ask. They both entered a large, beautifully decorating room. It was a typical aristocratic room and one that recognised from her times with the Order. Although, it seemed as if it should have been filled with expensive artifacts; valuable paintings, grand sculptures and priceless vases. But it was practically empty.

Sensing her confusion, Tom said quietly, "Orion tends to empty the rooms on occasions such as this. Some of the boys can get a little messy when they drink."

Hermione smiled with amusement and her eyes scanned the busy room. She could pick out a few familiar faces, such as Abraxas Malfoy and Evan Rosier. To her disappointment, Orion was no where in sight and her little scan of the room did not go unnoticed by Tom who watched an expression of disappointment flit over her face. He chose to ignore it and led her into the room, walking over to Abraxas, Rosier and two other ladies they were stood with.

"Ah, Tom! Hermione!" Abraxas exclaimed, and the other three turned round. Hermione certainly did not miss a flash of glee flit over the face of one girl upon seeing Tom walking towards them.

Tom acknowledged the group of four before Abraxas leaned over to Hermione and took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles, "It's wonderful to see you again, Hermione." he drawled.

She smirked and then said, "Oh, Rosie won't like you kissing my hand!"

Abraxas flushed, drawing away from her and straightening up, about to say something in reply but was interrupted by the other girl snapping, "Who's Rosie?!" and firing an accusing look in his direction, which made Abraxas pale further before his eyes glanced in panic at Evan.

From the corner of her eye she saw Tom's lips twitch in amusement before he led her away from the group, "Come. Let's get some drinks," he said, and she followed. It struck Hermione as odd that Tom would go and fetch his own drink; She was aware that the Black family had an army of house elves to do everything for them, so she was quite surprised to see none stood in the house. Perhaps Orion was more like Sirius than she thought.

"I think we may have caused a little argument there," Tom chuckled as they walked through another two more doors and found themselves in the kitchen.

Hermione agreed with amusement, "Who were those girls?" she asked, deciding not to mention her first impressions of them.

"Marla Lestrange and Genevieve Parkinson," Tom replied, "I would advise you don't get on their bad side, Hermione."

Somehow, the surname "Parkinson" did not surprise her. The girl did have quite a pug-face look about her; she must have been her grandmother. They were both rather nasty looking women, with nasty faces and scrunched up noses as if someone had smeared something unpleasant on their top lip. She had never forgotten the nasty things Pansy used to say to her at school; comparing her to a chipmunk, charming her teeth to grow even bigger and teasing her about her hair and blood status more times than she could remember. Hermione absolutely detested that girl and she always found it quite amusing that once the war was over, Draco completely ditched Pansy for one of the Greengrass sisters. She failed to remember which one; not that it made much difference to her.

"They don't strike me as the sort of girls I would choose to make friends with," Hermione sniffed, leaning against the work surface of the large kitchen. As much as she loved her little kitchen at home, this was the sort of kitchen one would find in a stately home. She felt immensely envious of Orion being brought up in a house like this, although she highly doubted he spent much time in the kitchen.

"Tom!" A voice suddenly cried from outside the room. Their eyes snapped to the entrance where a beaming Lestrange stood, beckoning Tom towards him. "I have someone I want to introduce you to!"

"It's fine," Hermione said, "you go and I'll get the drinks for when you come back." Tom nodded and asked for a pint of beer.

"I'll just be a minute, okay?" Tom said and then followed Lestrange from the room.

Hermione stood there, alone, for a few minutes just staring off into space. It then hit her just how lonely she felt; not just in that house, but in the wizarding world. At home she hardly saw anyone, but at least she knew there were people like Harry or Ginny she could just go and see for a bit of company. She realised that she didn't know anyone and had no one for company and for the first time since the Wizarding War, she wished that she could have Harry and Ron with her again as they used to be. She wanted her parents back, but Merlin, they weren't even born yet.

Leaning against the sink with both hands, Hermione took a deep breath, willing herself not to go into the state of mind she did after the war finished. She splashed her face with a little bit of water and then forced a smile on her face. People used to tell her that forcing herself to smile would automatically make her feel better; that had yet to be proven, but she did it nevertheless.

To take her mind off the thought of how her life used to be, Hermione decided to familiarise herself with the kitchen. The few parties she had been to in her own time, she found herself spending most of the night in the kitchen. She found it quite bizarre as she explored the kitchen; for a Pureblood family, they had a fair few muggle inventions. Hermione had never seen a fridge in a wizard home other than the Weasley's, they even had a kettle! Perhaps the Black family weren't as bad as she once thought, especially as they would not have had the influences from Voldemort at that time.

When she finished looking through the endless cupboards, draws and the pantry, she moved over to the refrigerator. After pulling a pint glass and a wine glass from the drinks cupboard, she rooted through the fridge until she came across a rather nice looking bottle of white wine and a can of muggle beer. She had never quite understood the difference between muggle alcohol and wizard alcohol.

Having poured the drinks, she then moved into the pantry to dispose of the empty can and returned the bottle of wine to the fridge, but as she turned to take a seat, the form of a man stood in the entrance of the kitchen caught her eye. She jumped in shock and a hand immediately flew to her beaded bag; over time it had become a reflex to move for her wand at almost any sign of danger and now was no exception.

She then sighed in relief as her eyes focused and she realised that the man stood in the door was not some murderer come to kill her, or a snatcher come to take her away to be tortured. No, it was just Orion, and Merlin, was she glad to see him.

"I wondered when I'd bump into you," Orion smirked, walking over to her and leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her hand.

"Thank goodness you've arrived," Hermione chuckled, taking a sip of her drink with a blush on her cheeks from the gentle kiss, "I was wondering if I'd be spending my night in here on my own."

Orion leaned against the work surface and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. Hermione had to admit, he looked quite dashing. "Yes," he began, looking her right in the eyes as he spoke, "I was only just told you had arrived, so I thought I might say hello."

"I'm glad you did," she blurted out before wincing; she did _not _want to sound desperate but the speed she had said those words, she wouldn't have been surprised if he was thinking that. "Thank you..." she said, casting her eyes down before smiling softly, "for the dress I mean; It's beautiful."

Orion nodded slowly with a twitch of his lips and appraised the dress with a satisfied expression. "No need to thank me, darling. It looks amazing on you," he said in a husky voice and moved to fiddle with his collar.

Hermione flushed considerably, feeling a little flustered at the the compliment. "I love it," She replied lowly and then with a little laugh, "You have a good taste in dresses, Orion."

"Why, thank you," he replied with a wink and poured himself a glass of fire whiskey.

Hermione frowned as she watched him knock the drink back before pouring himself even more. "Fire whiskey's a little strong, don't you think?" she muttered, tracing patterns on the wine glass with the tip of her finger.

Orion winced as the cool liquid burned down his throat and chuckled, "This might seem like a formal gathering, Hermione, but I _fully _intend to get a quite drunk."

Hermione nodded, feeling a little bit reluctant to be sharing a house with a crowd of drunk Slytherins.

"And so will you be," he said, turning back to her with a wink.

Hermione's eyes widened and she waved her arms in front of her in protest, "No, I'm not. I don't tend to get drunk."

"Oh, poppycock!" Orion exclaimed, laughing and took a seat at the kitchen table. He offered Hermione a seat beside him and she took it with a small smile on her face. Orion was now leaning closer towards the young witch, so close that she could smell his cologne radiating from him. She breathed in the scent and had to remind herself that this was Sirius' father so as not to lean in close to him! "Not even just a little bit drunk?" he said, his voice going one octave higher and a sweet smile plastered on his face.

Hermione laughed and leaned back in her chair, "Maybe." And when Orion went to do a little celebration fist pump she laughed again and exclaimed, "I said _maybe," _with a chuckle.

"Maybe is good for me!" he replied.

A content silence met them both. It was not an awkward silence though. It was quite calming, although Hermione was fully aware that Orion's eyes had still not left her face. And if she was honest, she quite liked the attention. It had been so long, years in fact, since she had received some attention from a member of the opposite sex that she had almost forgotten how nice it felt to be noticed, especially by someone as attractive as Orion. She could slowly feel her face heating up once again underneath the young man's intense gaze. It made her feel slightly exposed having him watch her as intently as he was, and so she took a tentative sip of her wine and placed it back on the table.

The silence was soon broken by Orion's low voice and her eyes snapped back up to his to find them fixed on the the glass of whiskey on the table.

"On a serious note though, Hermione," he began and then cleared his throat, "I am glad you decided to come..." he trailed off with a grimace, "I'm just annoyed that I didn't ask you first."

Hermione was not sure what to say to that, so she chose to say nothing. She was hardly going to say, "Yes, Orion is wish you had!" or "No, I prefer Tom, sorry." Unfortunately for Hermione, her silence was interpreted the opposite way of what she had intended.

"I get it if you...you know, _like _Tom in that way...If that's why you're not saying anything." he spluttered, not meeting her eyes but silently praying she would prove him wrong.

Hermione sighed after a small spark of surprise, "No," she chuckled, "I don't see Tom in that way. He just offered, so I accepted."

Orion nodded, his brown eyes meeting hers again. "I'm glad to hear that," he said seriously but couldn't hold back a small smile lighting up his face. "It's strange hearing that; you wouldn't believe how many girls there are chasing him."

"Well, he certainly knows how to charm a girl," she replied, "but I'm not one to fall at the feet of a handsome man."

"No," Orion replied, shaking his head and appraising her with a look of awe, "I don't think you are."

Hermione smiled at him then and jumped from her seat, knocking back her wine in one gulp and reaching out for his hand. He gave it to her willing and hoisted himself from his chair, quite liking the feel of her significantly smaller hand enclosed in his larger one.

"Come on," she said cheerfully, "we have to mingle at some point."

Orion quite enjoyed having Hermione tugging on his hand, leading him through the rooms until they reached the main living room where everyone stood socialising.

"Do you want to meet a few of my relatives?" Orion asked suddenly, releasing her hand and looping her arm through his and he looked down at her.

Hermione took a shaky breath and smiled, her eyes flitting around the busy room. She then nodded her head and accompanied him through the crowd, unaware that she was being carefully observed by another handsome, young wizard in the corner of the room.

To be continued.

* * *

**So, there is the first part of the party! I'm considering spending another two chapters there as there are a few people to introduce and a few events to unfurl. **

**If I get the same amount of reviews on this one, I will kiss every single one of you! Metaphorically speaking haha. I've made this an extra long chapter, nearly three times as long as I would usually write because I want to start lengthening them.**

**I have two actors who I have decided fit Tom and Orion perfectly, so here they are:**

**Tom Riddle - Harry Lloyd**

**He's an English actor and very dashing:** . /search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1366&bih=622&q=harry+lloyd&oq=harry+lloyd&gs_l=img.3..0l10.126.1945.0.2..523.7j1.8.0...0.0...1ac. 1. .7JuQgopTlKs#imgrc=a0Uio4WwVvCbpM%3A%3BQh7Hj5MlH7UIAM%3Bhttp%253A%252 F% .com%252Fimage%252F3492666% %3Bhttp%253A%252F% .com%252Fviewimage%252F3492666%3B600%3B600

. /search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1366&bih=622&q=harry+lloyd&oq=harry+lloyd&gs_l=img.3..0l10.126.1945.0.2..523.7j1.8.0...0.0...1ac. 1. .7JuQgopTlKs#imgrc=3xW128EfyZ9jTM%3A%3BsJHhfQnjVaQMqM%3Bhttp%253A%252 F% %252Fimages%252FM%252FMV5BMjE2OTkyOTkzMl5BMl5BanBn XkFtZTcwODYxMTUwOA%2540%2540._V1._SY314_CR18%252C0 %252C214%252C314_.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F% .com%252Fname%252Fnm0516003%252F%3B214%3B314

. /search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1366&bih=622&q=harry+lloyd&oq=harry+lloyd&gs_l=img.3..0l10.126.1945.0.2..523.7j1.8.0...0.0...1ac. 1. .7JuQgopTlKs#imgrc=4-ILrCgD8Zkw1M%3A%3BWpgNrWFD7Yva_M%3Bhttp%253A%252 F% . %252Ftumblr_m8kjybP1sA1rck1b4o1_r1_ %3Bhttp%253A%252F% .com%252Ftagged%252Fwill%252520scarlett%253Flangua ge%253Dtr_TR%3B500%3B654

**Orion Black - Eoin Macken**

**He's an Irish actor and is also, very dashing:** . /search?hl=en&gs_rn=9&gs_ri=psy-ab&tok=ysSxvPVoBg2OhA-2V0nPpA&pq=sir+gawain+actor&cp=6&gs_id=1h&xhr=t&q=eoin+macken&bav=on.2,or.r_cp.r_qf.&bvm=bv.45175338,d.d2k&biw=1366&bih=622&wrapid=tljp1365855032199310&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=PEtpUf7lM8aX0QWX8IHoBg#imgrc=22T-QneAoWbywM%3A%3Bk3gUFnOo4osXTM%3Bhttp%253A%252 F% % %253Faid%253D126%3Bhttp%253A%252F% % %3B614%3B799

. /search?hl=en&gs_rn=9&gs_ri=psy-ab&tok=ysSxvPVoBg2OhA-2V0nPpA&pq=sir+gawain+actor&cp=6&gs_id=1h&xhr=t&q=eoin+macken&bav=on.2,or.r_cp.r_qf.&bvm=bv.45175338,d.d2k&biw=1366&bih=622&wrapid=tljp1365855032199310&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=PEtpUf7lM8aX0QWX8IHoBg#imgrc=sQZKwpzrW0s9ZM%3A%3B4DFA9rjONQssAM%3Bhttp%253A%252 F% .com%252Fsalbty0%252FO5pm9d59m% %3Bhttp%253A%252F% .com%252F%3B500%3B664

. /search?hl=en&gs_rn=9&gs_ri=psy-ab&tok=ysSxvPVoBg2OhA-2V0nPpA&pq=sir+gawain+actor&cp=6&gs_id=1h&xhr=t&q=eoin+macken&bav=on.2,or.r_cp.r_qf.&bvm=bv.45175338,d.d2k&biw=1366&bih=622&wrapid=tljp1365855032199310&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=PEtpUf7lM8aX0QWX8IHoBg#imgrc=QTf1_wroW7LkkM%3A%3B8clqiXtNtwBWDM%3Bhttp%253A%252 F% %252Fphotos%252Falbums%252FPhotoshoots%252F08%252F normal_ %3Bhttp%253A%252F% %252Fphotos% %253Fpid%253D2167%3B307%3B400

**So, thank you for reading! Leave me some feedback please and hopefully I'll be updating in a weeks time!**

**-Buckbeak**


	10. Party At 12 Grimmauld Place Part 2

**Riddle and His Lady**

**Chapter Nine: Party at 12 Grimmauld Place - Part 2**

Previously:

Hermione smiled at him then and jumped from her seat, knocking back her wine in one gulp and reaching out for his hand. He gave it to her willing and hoisted himself from his chair, quite liking the feel of her significantly smaller hand enclosed in his larger one.

"Come on," she said cheerfully, "we have to mingle at some point."

Orion quite enjoyed having Hermione tugging on his hand, leading him through the rooms until they reached the main living room where everyone stood socialising.

"Do you want to meet a few of my relatives?" Orion asked suddenly, releasing her hand and looping her arm through his and he looked down at her.

Hermione took a shaky breath and smiled, her eyes flitting around the busy room. She then nodded her head and accompanied him through the crowd, unaware that she was being carefully observed by another handsome, young wizard in the corner of the room.

* * *

Orion lead the suddenly cheerful witch over to a small group of young witches and wizards stood in the centre of the room, chattering happily to each other and finishing their drinks at an impossible rate. Hermione observed two young women stood within the small congregation, one wearing a long black, figure hugging dress with her long dark hair held behind her back. She had high cheek bones and dark red lips with pale blue eyes; she was the image of a Pureblood princess. The other woman had very short fiery red hair, styled with a victory roll and the rest, curled perfectly around her face. She wore a smart red dress, fit tightly around her legs and finished just below her knees. It was not as racy as the other woman's dress, but it certainly suited her and made her look very prim and proper. It struck Hermione that the woman seemed very familiar but for the life of her, she could simply not put her finger on it.

Hermione was first introduced to three young men. The first was named Alphard Black, who had short black hair and typical aristocratic features of the Black family and was also Orion's second cousin. The second was called Ignatius Prewett, a distant cousin of the family although he did not at all resemble a Black relation. He had quite light brown hair which was pulled back in a short ponytail with a black ribbon. Both greeted her with a warm welcome and Hermione warmed to them both immediately, although the third man was far from welcoming. He was a short man, but seemed just as old as she was. He had short, unkempt light hair and a sour, pinched face with lines carved into his forehead. He seemed like a positively unpleasant man and only grunted when Hermione greeted him. She chose then to ignore him but perked up upon hearing his name; Lyall Pettigrew. She immediately took a deeper dislike to him.

Orion then pointed her to the girl with the long black hair who leaned forward to kiss Hermione on the cheek with a graceful smile.

"Lucretia Black," the girl said softly, "It's wonderful to meet you, Hermione."

She smiled in response and returned the compliment. Hermione then turned to the other woman stood beside Lucretia who smiled warmly at her and said in a thick Scottish accent, "I was wondering when I'd finally meet you; I'm Minerva McGonagall,"

Hermione froze, allowing the information to sink in. She had just met her Transfiguration teacher and future Headmistress as a 19 year old girl and now she felt somehow compelled to bash her head against a wall for not recognising her in the first place. Of course, she had aged...considerably in the future and to some extent it was difficult to tell it was her but it was most definitely her, just younger and extremely pretty. She was surprised not to find a stern expression on her face that she had been so used to seeing in the future, but instead there was a pleasant smile and young, bright green eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Minerva," Hermione replied after a moment of frozen silence, and felt a wave of emotion wash over her at the thought of her old Transfiguration teacher and Headmistress who was rather like a mother figure when her parents went to Australia. Hermione hid her state of sadness beneath a polite smile, but could not help but find it perplexing that the young, pretty woman in front of her was the same one in the future, only older.

They made light conversation for a while, discussing their lives, their connections to each other, but mostly the other people in the room.

"Did you attend Hogwarts then, Hermione?" Ignatius inquired with a perplexed expression on his face, "I cannot remember seeing you there."

"No," Hermione blurted without thinking, "I was home schooled by my Aunt and Uncle from a young age; they wanted to spare me from bullying and the sorts. Two months ago I left home so I could make my own way in the world."

Ignatius nodded, deciding to leave the subject.

"Wha' 'appened to yuh parents?" Lyall grunted rather unsympathetically. Hermione saw a look of disgust flit across Lucretia's face; apparently she wasn't the only one who had taken a dislike to the disheveled lump in their company.

"They died when I was very young; do not apologise for my loss, I hardly knew them." Hermione chuckled. She did not feel too guilty lying to them; after all, it was only a half-lie. Her parents didn't even know she existed.

"So, you're a orphan?" Lucretia asked, a tone of sympathy in her voice.

Hermione nodded and Ignatius muttered, "So is Tom; although he doesn't like to talk about it."

The group fell silent for a moment before Lucretia exclaimed, "I absolutely adore your dress, by the way Hermione! We must go shopping together one day."

Hermione laughed and replied, "Thank you; it was a gift from Orion."

Lucretia raised an eyebrow with a wicked smile on her lips, "Oh really? It must have been an expensive gift..."

Hermione frowned and turned to Orion, "Oh, yes. I hope you didn't spend too much on me," she said, concerned. She had never liked people spending a lot of money on her, especially boys.

Orion chuckled, "As you can see; my family has more money than sense, so money is no object, Hermione."

Lucretia winked at Hermione, making her face heat up but she decided not to argue with him in front of people. Hermione found it quite odd, as she stood quietly and observed the others talking, that Minerva, a bold Gryffindor, would be spending her time socialising with Slytherins. She was clearly quite friendly with them; especially with Alphard as she had seen him shooting her small smiles every now and then and Minerva's face heating up in response with another shaky smile in return. She had never known of Minerva having a husband, or children nor heard of any sort of relative.

The lively chatter around the group was soon interrupted by an arm being slung around Lucretia's waist and Tom appearing beside her with a cocky grin on his face.

He greeted everyone with a polite nod of the head before turning to the red-headed woman and saying, "Minerva," with a slight tone of hostility in his voice.

Minerva nodded sharply at him with a cold look in her eyes, refusing to say a word to him. The stiff exchange between the two did not go unnoticed by the rest of the group but they seemed to turn a blind eye to it.

"I was wondering when you would grace us with your presence, Tommy," Lucretia purred, a seductive smile smeared on her perfect face. Hermione's mouth suddenly felt very dry as she watched them flirt with each other shamelessly, with his arm set firmly around her tiny waist and her hand rested possessively on his chest.

"See what I mean?" Orion whispered in Hermione's ear, referring to their previous conversation about women falling at Tom's feet. Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable as she felt Tom's eyes burning on her skin. It seemed to go unnoticed by Lucretia that Tom was not paying any actual attention to her, but was staring boldly at Hermione instead.

She could not help but feel incredibly irritated at the young man stood before her in his beautifully tailored suit and his perfectly carved face, as he continued to annoy her. It was blatant he was trying to make her jealous, although for the world, she could not figure out why. Nor could she figure out _why _she was getting jealous; she did not have feelings for him, she did not even like him. He was just someone she knew who was devilishly handsome and happened to destroy her life in the future.

Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance as everyone else chatted away contently whilst she could feel Orion's dark gaze burning into her as she forced herself not to look at Tom grazing his hands all over Lucretia and toying with her hair.

"Hermione," Minerva exclaimed, leaping forward to loop her arm through hers and brushed a smile on her face, "Shall we refill our drinks?"

Without waiting for Hermione to answer, she was dragged away from the group by Minerva and pulled through the crowd of people. They soon entered yet another room with only a couple of people stood in there with their arms wrapped around each other and facing glued together. It wasn't an unpleasant sight and they weren't doing anything too explicit, it just wasn't the sort of thing you could imagine anyone daring to do in the house of the prestigious Black family. Hermione very much doubted Sirius' prim and proper mother would like it very much. Upon hearing the click of their heels, the couple turned to look and fled at the stern look Minerva was giving them. It seemed she wasn't that different fifty years in the past after all.

"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione said once she realised that Minerva had actually just done her a huge favour, "That scene was becoming exceedingly painful to watch."

"It's no problem," she replied, leaning against one of the dark blue walls beside a portrait of a rather ugly looking woman who was staring hatefully at the red-headed witch, "The stench of testosterone in that room was becoming too much for me to bear."

Hermione laughed at that and decided that she quite liked this new, younger Minerva.

"From that public display of manliness," she began with a crooked eyebrow, "I am guessing you came here with Riddle but you've done something that he doesn't like, and so he's trying to make you jealous."

"How did you know I came with Tom?" Hermione asked.

Minerva opened her mouth before halting and closing it and then opening it again with a sigh, "I could say I am just _so _intelligent that I thought of it all on my own, but that would be a lie," she chuckled, "Eileen told me."

"Ohh," Hermione said, unsure of what else to say. "Well, I have no idea what I might have done to anger Tom."

Minerva seemed pensive for a moment and gnawed on her bottom lip before clicking her fingers with a grin, "He must have heard us talking about the dress."

Hermione's brow furrowed, "What about the dress?" she asked, folding her arms.

Minerva sighed impatiently, "Orion bought it for you?_ And _you've turned up here at Orion's party, _with Tom, _wearing a dress that _Orion _bought for you."

Hermione suddenly felt very silly; it had never occurred to her that boys would see that as trespassing over a fellow male's territory. Pathetic, she thought.

"That's absolutely ridiculous." Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Men _are _ridiculous, Hermione," Minerva chuckled and then frowned, "although, I must say, I have _never _Riddle act that way because of a girl before...especially a muggleborn."

"How did you know I was a muggleborn?" Hermione inquired.

Minerva laughed, her eyes crinkling at the edges, "Your surname is not a pureblood one, although I suppose you could be a halfblood...at most."

It did not surprise Hermione to see that she did not care about her blood status, although it was still a shock sometimes to her that people were accepting of it. Silence then met them and they stood quietly as Minerva twirled her wand in her right hand before she suddenly jumped into life and clapped her hands together.

A house elf suddenly appeared upon the second clap with a loud crack, staring up at the two witches.

"Mifty!" Hermione exclaimed with a smile, "how are you?"

"Very well, mistress, thank you. Is there something you needed?" She squeaked with a toothy grin, clasping her bony hands behind her back.

"Yes," Minerva said, "we would like four shots of fire whiskey please, Mifty."

"Yes, mistress." Mifty replied and with a crack, she disappeared, leaving Hermione with her eyes wide and a slackened jaw.

"_Fire whiskey?!"_ she exclaimed. Hermione had only ever drank fire whiskey once during a night in the Leaky Cauldron with George after the war. They had both experienced loss during the long, long battle and needed some comfort which they soon found in each other. She certainly regretted drinking it in the morning and found herself leaning over the toilet of her parents home where she found herself. She had not returned there since she had sent them to Australia and sold the house soon after the night out with George. Soon after that, Hermione heard that George has left England, his family and friends and moved to Romania to live with Charlie and his new wife. The Weasley family had not seen him since, although they had seen Charlie, but George never came home. It was as if Molly and Arthur had lost two sons.

"Yes," Minerva said with a wink, "it is not often I get a chance to go out and I think we're going to be good friends, so let's just loosen up a bit and have a free drink."

Hermione could not argue with that, so when Mifty returned with a tray of four shot glasses and a bottle of fire whiskey, she found no reason for her to refuse them.

* * *

"So," Hermione drawled, four shots later and with another held loosely in her left hand, "What's with you and Tom? You don't seem to like him."

Minerva chuckled darkly and threw another shot down her throat with a wince before sliding her wand from her dress pocket and transfiguring one of the glasses into a tiny bird. "That would be an understatement. I cannot stand that man and I there is no doubt he feels the same about me."

Hermione nodded, "can I ask why?"

"You can," Minerva grinned, "Me and Riddle were in the same year at Hogwarts, you know. In fact, we shared a common room together because we were Head Boy and Head Girl. Soon after our last year began, I started seeing what he was _really _like. He would act charming and polite in public to teachers and students but when he was with his friends in our common room it was as if he was a different person." she spat.

"How do you mean?" Hermione inquired, stroking the blue feathers of the bird that had landed next to her on the floor.

"Well, here's one example; I had a bit of a crush on him at one point, but so did every girl, and when I heard I'd be sharing living quarters with him I felt on cloud nine! Although, one day I was outside near the Black Lake practicing some spells and Avery appeared. I was so distracted by what I was doing that he took advantage and he manage to disarm me and levitate me upside down in the air so my skirt would go with it...People were crowding round and you could see _everything_. It was horrible..." she paused, glancing her eyes down as if ashamed to be telling the story. "And when I saw Riddle appear and tell everyone to leave, I thought he was going to help me and punish Avery for it, but he just stood there and laughed and then tossed my wand to me and left."

"Oh, Minerva...I'm so sorry," Hermione said, pouring her another shot and sliding it over to her. She accepted it gladly with a small smile.

"It's fine; it was ages ago. But after that, I started to realise what who Riddle really was."

Hermione nodded and then asked, "Who's Avery by the way? I don't think I've met him..."

"You don't want to. He has a bizarre hatred for muggleborn's so watch out if you do meet him.

When we were in school together, Riddle had two groups of friends. His first group was one that everyone in the school got on with even though they were Slytherin's; Orion, Abraxas and Lestrange. His other group were considered the school bullies but they were much more than that. They were _dangerous _and people seemed to think Riddle was just a pawn, but now I look back I realise that _he _was in control of _them; _not the other way round."

"Who were they?"

"Avery, Nott and Carmichael. They're typical stuck up Purebloods from disgustingly rich and stupid families, but they dealt the cards out in Hogwarts."

"Are they here tonight?" Hermione asked, levitating the now empty bottle of whiskey.

Minerva laughed and crossed her legs in a rather unladylike way for saying she was wearing a dress, "No! Of course not."

"Why not?"

"Because a few years ago Nott made a rather aggressive pass at Orion's cousin and he's never trusted him again. Although, I wouldn't put it past them to turn up."

Hermione nodded and lazily dropped the bottle to the floor. They sat in silence for a moment and her mind began to wonder back to what she had been told about Tom. If she did not know of what he would become in the future, she would find it impossible to believe that this polite young man was actually a manipulative bully as Minerva claimed. Although, Hermione knew him to be so, yet for some reason she still wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. She had always tried to live by the idea that no one is totally lost and everyone deserves a second chance no matter what they have done. If she was speaking of Voldemort in the future, he was beyond help...but perhaps this younger version of him was not lost just yet. Perhaps with her help, he wouldn't become such a revolting creature and instead live a good life with no killing and make a _good _name for himself for his intelligence, rather than his hatred of muggles. Yes, perhaps.

"We should probably join the others," Minerva muttered and Hermione agreed, dragging herself up and leaving the empty bottle on the floor. She was too drunk to bother about things like that.

They were about to walk from the room, or rather, stumble from the room, when Ignatius appeared in the doorway and grabbed both their hands in his firm grip and saying, "drinking games have started in the drawing room. You two _must _be there!"

The two women followed him until they found a large group of wizards and witches surrounding a large round table. Around the edge of the table, shot glasses had been placed and the group was compiled of Alphard, Orion, Lyall, Lucretia, Tom, Abraxas, Lestrange and Eileen.

Minerva and Hermione joined them around the table as Orion explained the rules of the game; each shot glass would be filled with some sort of alcoholic drink and then levitated by four people who would be sat at the table and given ten glasses each. They would each be given ten seconds to levitate one shot glass at a time. Each glass they levitated successfully, they would be able to drink. The more drunk a player got, the less accurate their magic and the more likely they are to drop the glass, the player would be given three shots, one containing an unpleasant potion rather than alcohol.

Hermione could not really see the point of the game, other than to get more and more drunk. But she was not one to argue; after all, she had already had more than was sensible to drink so she was hardly going to turn more free alcohol down.

Once he had explained the game, Lucretia, Lyall, Abraxas and Eileen took their seats at the table and Orion joined Hermione as she watched and slid an unexpected hand across her back and to loosely cup her waist.

"Having fun?" he asked with a charming grin on his face.

Hermione nodded with a smile but did not say anything.

"Well, that's good because I have an inkling tonight is going to be quite eventful," he said with a wink and continued to watch the game unfold.

* * *

I'm dreadfully sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I've been quite busy with college and other things and this chapter didn't seem to want to be written. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed; they're gradually going up and it's great to hear your feedback!

I apologise for the links I left on the last chapter as I only realised after I posted it that they didn't actually work, so here is one picture for each actor:

Tom Riddle - Harry Lloyd: . /tumblr_m8mofjerm91rdwahho1_

Orion Black - Eoin Macken: .

Alphard Black - Ben Barnes: .

Minerva McGonagall - Olivia Grant: .

Lucretia Black - Yancy Butler: polls/000344555/polls_yancy_butler_0605_686112_pol l_

Eileen Prince - Felicity Jones:

I will try to update as soon as I can. Thank you for reading and please review!

- Buckbeak


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